KATHLEEN  BURKE 


MERTELaER.       <37*NTINIER 

5—  Kegimenl  a'Artiiieric  —  VERDON-sur-MEUSE 


^mv*- 


I. 

cPIi^w  - 


S5'/V 


REPRODUCTION   OF   MENU   OF   DINNER   TO 
MISS   BURKE   AT   VERDUN  JULY   26,  1916 


FACSIMILE   OF   GENERAL   DUBOIS*   TRIBUTE   TO    MISS   BURKE 
FOLLOWED    BY   SIGNATURES   OF   THE   OFFICERS    PRESENT 


KATHLEEN         BURKE 


UNO.  PE  CALIF.  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELE! 


THE  WHITE  ROAD 
TO  VERDUN 


BY 

KATHLEEN  BURKE 

Knight  of  St.  Sava,  Serbia 
Officier  de  V  Instruction  Publique,  France 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1916, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


THIS  LITTLE  BOOK  18 

RESPECTFULLY  AND  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 
TO 

MADAME  JUSSERAND 

Ambassadrice  de  France  a  Washington 

AND  TO 

MONSIEUR  GASTON  LIEBERT 

Consul  General  de  France 

DR.  C.  O.  MAILLOUX 

AND  TO  ALL  MY  GOOD  FRIENDS  EN  THE 
UNITED  STATES  AND  CANADA,  WHOSE 
SYMPATHY  AND  ENCOURAGEMENT  HAVE 
HELPED  ME  SO  MUCH  IN  MY  WORK 

VIVE  LA  FRANCE 


2126025 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAQB 

I  THE  TRUE  PHILOSOPHERS 18 

II  THE  BRIDGE  AT  MEAUX 21 

III  RECRUITING  RAT-CATCHERS         ....  27 

IV  A  GUN  CARRIAGE  AN  ALTAR         ....  87 
V  LIFE  BEHIND  THE  LINES 48 

VI  DEVOTION  TO  ANIMALS 47 

VII  HUNTING  FOR  GENERALS 58 

VIII   AN  INSTANCE  OF  QUICK  WIT        ....  61 

IX  AT  THE  HEADQUARTERS  OF  GENERAL  PETAIN  .  69 

X   A  MEETING  WITH  "FORAIN"        ....  77 

XI  VALUE  OF  WOMEN'S  WORK 81 

XII  THE  "MOVIES"  UNDER  FIRE        ....  95 

XIII  A  SUBTERRANEAN  CITY 107 

XIV  POILU  AND  TOMMY 115 

XV   ABBREVIATED  FRENCH 123 

XVI   THE  BROWN  AND  BLACK  SONS  OF  FRANCE         .  129 

XVII   AT  GENERAL  NIVELLE'S  HEADQUARTERS    .       .  189 

XVIII   RHEIMS 147 

XIX   AT  THE  HEADQUARTERS  OF  THE  GENERALISSIMO  155 

XX  To  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  WOMEN  OF  FRANCE       .  165 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

GENERAL  NIVELLE  GREETING  KATHLEEN  BURKE  AT 

VERDUN Cover 

KATHLEEN  BURKE Frontispiece 

PAGE 

A  BRIDGE  OVER  THE  MARNE  DESTROYED  BY  THE  RE- 
TREATING GERMANS 22 

THE  TRENCH  DOG  WEARING  His  GAS-MASK.  His 
WONDERFUL  TRAINING  AIDED  BY  His  NATURAL 
SAGACITY  RENDERS  HIM  A  HOLY  TERROR  TO 
PROWLING  BOCHES  AND  SPIES 28 

THE  CAR  IN  WHICH  I  MADE  THE  JOURNEY  INTO  VERDUN      54 

GENERALS  JOFFRE  AND  PETAIN  AT  THE  LATTER'S  HEAD- 
QUARTERS   70 

A  SERBIAN  REFUGEE  BOY 82 

WOMANLY  TENDERNESS.     PATIENT  UNDERGOING  SUN 

AND  SALT  TREATMENT 86 

VERDUN,  A  WHITE  CITY  OF  DESOLATION,  SCORCHED  AND 
BATTERED,  YET  THE  BRIGHTEST  JEWEL  IN  THE 
CROWN  OF  FRANCE'S  GLORY 90 

WE  LEFT  THE  CAR  AND  CLIMBED  THROUGH  THE  RUINED 

STREETS 96 

THE  HEAT  IN  THE  CITY  WAS  EXCESSIVE  Bur  m  THE 

TRENCHES  IT  WAS  DELIGHTFULLY  COOL  .  102 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGB 

No  SAFE  PLACE  TO  NEST 110 

THE  BROWN  AND  BLACK  SONS  OF  FRANCE        .       .       .  130 

SCOTTISH  WOMEN  SURGEONS  AT  WORK  AT  THE  ABBATE 

DE  ROYAUMONT,  FRANCE 140 

THE  HOSPITAL  "KING" 142 

ONE  OF  THE  WARDS  OF  THE  SCOTTISH  WOMEN'S  HOS- 
PITAL, ROYAUMONT 150 

THE  KITCHEN  COACH  OF  A  FRENCH  RED  CROSS  TRAIN  158 


THE  TRUE  PHILOSOPHERS 


THE  WHITE  ROAD 
TO  VERDUN 


THE  TRUE  PHILOSOPHERS 

We  left  Paris  determined  to  undertake 
the  journey  to  the  Front  in  the  true 
spirit  of  the  French  Poilu,  and,  no  mat- 
ter what  happened,  "de.  ne  pas  s'en 
jaire"  This  famous  "motto"  of  the 
French  Army  is  probably  derived  from 
one  of  two  slang  sentences,  de  ne  pas  se 
faire  des  cheveuw  ("to  keep  one's  hair 
on,")  or  de  ne  pas  se  faire  de  la  bile,  or,  in 
other  words,  not  to  upset  one's  digestion 
by  unnecessary  worrying.  The  phrase  is 
typical  of  the  mentality  of  the  Poilu,  who 
accepts  anything  and  everything  that  may 
[13] 


happen,  whether  it  be  merely  slight  phys- 
ical discomfort,  or  intense  suffering,  as 
part  of  the  willing  sacrifice  which  he  made 
on  the  day  that,  leaving  his  homestead 
and  his  daily  occupation,  he  took  up  arms 
"offering  his  body  as  a  shield  to  defend  the 
heart  of  France." 

Everything  might  be  worse  than  it  is, 
says  the  Poilu,  and  so  he  has  composed  a 
Litany.  Every  regiment  has  a  different 
version,  but  always  with  the  same  basis. 

"Of  two  things  one  is  certain:  Either 
you're  mobilised  or  you're  not  mobilised. 
If  you're  not  mobilised,  there  is  no  need 
to  worry;  if  you  are  mobilised,  of  two 
things  one  is  certain:  Either  you're  be- 
hind the  lines  or  you're  on  the  Front.  If 
you're  behind  the  lines  there  is  no  need  to 
worry;  if  you're  on  the  Front,  of  two 
things  one  is  certain :  Either  you're  resting 
in  a  safe  place  or  you're  exposed  to  dan- 
ger. If  you're  resting  in  a  safe  place 
there  is  no  need  to  worry;  if  you're  ex- 
posed to  danger,  of  two  things  one  is  cer- 
tain: Either  you're  wounded  or  you're  not 

[Ml 


THE   TRUE   PHILOSOPHERS 

wounded.  If  you're  not  wounded,  there 
is  no  need  to  worry;  if  you  are  wounded, 
of  two  things  one  is  certain:  Either  you're 
wounded  seriously  or  you're  wounded 
slightly.  If  you're  wounded  slightly  there 
is  no  need  to  worry;  if  you're  wounded 
seriously,  of  two  things  one  is  certain: 
Either  you  recover  or  you  die.  If  you 
recover  there  is  no  need  to  worry;  if  you 
die  you  can't  worry." 

When  once  past  the  "Wall  of  China," 
as  the  French  authorities  call  the  difficult 
approaches  to  the  war  zone,  Meaux  was 
the  first  town  of  importance  at  which  we 
stopped.  We  had  an  opportunity  to  sam- 
ple the  army  bread,  as  the  driver  of  a  pass- 
ing bread  wagon  flung  a  large  round  loaf 
into  our  motor. 

According  to  all  accounts  received  from 
the  French  soldiers  who  are  in  the  prison 
camps  of  Germany,  one  of  the  greatest 
hardships  is  the  lack  of  white  bread,  and 
they  have  employed  various  subterfuges  in 
the  endeavour  to  let  their  relatives  know 
that  they  wish  to  have  bread  sent  to  them. 
[15] 


THE   WHITE   ROAD    TO   VERDUN 

Some  of  the  Bretons  writing  home  nick- 
name bread  "Monsieur  B arras,"  and  when 
there  was  a  very  great  shortage  they 
would  write  to  their  families :  "Ce  pauvre 
Monsieur  Barras  ne  se  porte  pas  tres  bien 
a  present/'  (M.  Barras  is  not  very  well 
at  present. )  Finally  the  Germans  discov- 
ered the  real  significance  of  M.  Barras  and 
they  added  to  one  of  the  letters:  efSi  M. 
Barras  ne  se  porte  pas  tres  a  present  c'est 
bien  la  faute  de  vos  amis  les  Anglais." 
(If  M.  Barras  is  not  well  at  present,  it 
is  the  fault  of  your  friends  the  English.) 
And  from  then  all  the  letters  referring  to 
M.  Barras  were  strictly  suppressed. 

While  the  German  Press  may  not  be 
above  admitting  a  shortage  of  food  in  Ger- 
many, it  seriously  annoys  the  Army  that 
the  French  prisoners  or  the  French  in  the 
invaded  regions  should  hear  of  it.  I 
heard  one  story  of  the  wife  of  a  French 
officer  in  Lille,  who  was  obliged  to  offer 
unwilling  hospitality  to  a  German  Cap- 
tain, who,  in  a  somewhat  clumsy  en- 
deavour to  be  amiable,  offered  to  try  to 

[16] 


THE   TRUE   PHILOSOPHERS 

get  news  of  her  husband  and  to  convey  it 
to  her.  Appreciating  the  seeming  friend- 
liness of  the  Captain,  she  confided  to  him 
that  she  had  means  of  communicating  with 
her  husband  who  was  on  the  French 
Front.  The  Captain  informed  against 
her  and  the  next  day  she  was  sent  for  by 
the  Kommandantur,  who  imposed  a  fine  of 
fifty  francs  upon  her  for  having  received 
a  letter  from  the  enemy  lines.  Taking  a 
one  hundred  franc  note  from  her  bag  she 
placed  it  on  the  desk,  saying,  "M.  le  Kom- 
mandantur, here  is  the  fifty  francs  fine, 
and  also  another  fifty  francs  which  I  am 
glad  to  subscribe  for  the  starving  women 
and  children  in  Berlin."  "No  one  starves 
in  Berlin,"  replied  the  Kommandantur. 
"Oh,  yes,  they  do,"  replied  Madame  X., 
"I  know  because  the  Captain  who  so 
kindly  informed  you  that  I  had  received  a 
letter  from  my  husband  showed  me  a  let- 
ter the  other  day  from  his  wife  in  which 
she  spoke  of  the  sad  condition  of  the  wom- 
m  and  children  of  Germany,  who,  whilst 
not  starving,  were  far  from  happy."  Thus 
[17] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

she  not  only  had  the  pleasure  of  seriously 
annoying  the  Kommandantur,  but  also 
had  a  chance  to  get  even  with  the  Captain 
who  had  informed  against  her,  and  who  is 
no  longer  in  soft  quarters  in  Lille,  but 
paying  the  penalty  of  his  indiscretion  by 
a  sojourn  on  the  Yser. 


[18] 


THE  BRIDGE  AT  MEAUX 


II 

THE  BRIDGE  AT   MEAUX 

The  Bridge  at  Meaux,  destroyed  in 
the  course  of  the  German  retreat,  has  not 
yet  been  entirely  repaired.  Beneath  it 
rushes  the  Marne  and  the  river  sings  in 
triumph,  as  it  passes,  that  it  is  carrying 
away  the  soil  that  has  been  desecrated  by 
the  steps  of  the  invader,  and  that  day  by 
day  it  is  washing  clean  the  land  of  France. 

In  the  fields  where  the  corn  is  standing, 
the  tiny  crosses  marking  the  last  resting 
places  of  the  men  are  entirely  hidden,  but 
where  the  grain  has  been  gathered  the 
graves  stand  out  distinctly  marked  not 
only  by  a  cross,  but  also  by  the  tall 
bunches  of  corn  which  have  been  left 
growing  on  these  small  patches  of  holy 
ground.  It  has  always  been  said  that 
France  has  two  harvests  each  year.  Cer- 
tainly in  the  fields  of  the  Marne  there  is 
[21] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

not  only  the  harvest  of  bread ;  there  is  also 
springing  up  the  harvest  of  security  and 
peace. 

The  peasants  as  they  point  out  the 
graves  always  add:  "We  of  the  people 
know  that  those  men  sacrificed  their  lives 
that  our  children  might  live.  Those  who 
have  died  in  vain  for  an  unjust  cause  may 
well  envy  the  men  of  France  who  have 
poured  out  their  blood  for  the  benefit  of 
humanity." 

Looking  on  the  crosses  on  the  battle- 
field of  the  Marne,  I  realised  to  the  fullest 
extent  the  sacrifices,  borne  with  such 
bravery,  of  the  women  of  France.  I 
thought  of  the  picture  I  had  seen  in  Paris 
of  a  group  of  mothers  standing  at  the  foot 
of  Calvary,  looking  out  over  the  fields  of 
small  black  crosses,  lifting  their  hands  to 
Heaven,  with  the  words:  "We  also,  God, 
have  given  our  sons  for  the  peace  of  the 
world." 

At  Montmirail  the  real  activity  of  the 
war  zone  first  became  apparent.  We  drew 
the  car  to  the  side  of  the  road  and  waited 


A   BRIDGE   OVER   THE   MARNE    DESTROYED 
BY  THE  RETREATING  GERMANS 


THE   BRIDGE   AT   MEAUX 

whilst  a  long  procession  of  empty  muni- 
tion wagons  passed  on  the  way  back  from 
the  munition  parks  near  the  fighting  line. 
There  was  a  smile  on  the  face  of  every  one 
of  the  drivers.  Each  of  them  had  the  sat- 
isfaction of  knowing  that  there  was  no 
chance  of  his  returning  with  an  empty 
wagon,  as  there  is  no  lack  of  provisions  to 
feed  the  hungriest  of  the  "75's"  or  any  of 
her  larger  sisters. 

The  fact  that  it  is  known  that  there  is 
an  ample  supply  of  munitions  plays  an  im- 
portant part  in  the  "morale"  of  the  troops. 
The  average  Poilu  has  no  sympathy  with 
the  man  who  grumbles  at  the  number  of 
hours  he  may  have  to  spend  in  the  factory. 
We  heard  the  tale  of  a  munition  worker 
who  was  complaining  in  a  cafe  at  having 
to  work  so  hard.  A  Poilu  who  was  en  per- 
mission, and  who  was  sitting  at  the  next 
table,  turned  to  him  saying:  "You  have 
no  right  to  grumble.  You  receive  ten  to 
twelve  francs  a  day  for  making  shells  and 
we  poor  devils  get  five  sous  a  day  for  stop- 
ping them!" 
123] 


RECRUITING  RAT-CATCHERS 


Ill 

RECRUITING  RAT-CATCHERS 

We  lunched  in  the  small  but  hospitable 
village  of  Sezannes  in  company  with  a 
most  charming  invalided  officer,  who  in- 
formed us  that  he  was  the  principal  in 
that  district  of  the  S.D.R.  R.D.  (Service 
de  Recherche  des  Rattlers)  (the  Princi- 
pal Recruiting  Officer  for  Rat- Catchers). 
In  other  words,  he  is  spending  his  time 
endeavouring  to  persuade  suitable  bow- 
wows to  enlist  in  the  service  of  their 
country.  Likely  dogs  are  trained  un- 
til they  do  not  bark,  and  become  en- 
tirely accustomed  to  the  sound  of  firing; 
they  are  then  pronounced  ffaptes  a  faire 
campagne"  or  "fit  for  service,"  receive 
their  livret  militaire,  or  certificates — for 
not  every  chance  dog  is  allowed  in  the 
trenches — and  are  despatched  to  the 
trenches  on  a  rat-hunting  campaign. 
[27] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

At  the  commencement  of  the  War,  dogs 
were  not  utilized  to  the  extent  they  are 
at  present.  A  large  number  are  now  with 
the  French  Army  and  the  wonderful 
training  they  have  received,  aided  by  their 
natural  sagacity,  renders  them  a  holy  ter- 
ror to  prowling  boches  and  spies.  Those 
employed  in  carrying  messages  or  tobacco 
to  the  soldiers  in  dangerous  trenches  now 
wear  gas  masks,  as  many  of  these  high 
trained  animals  have  been  lost  in  conse- 
quence of  too  closely  investigating  the 
strange  odour  caused  by  this  Hun  war 
method. 

From  Sezannes  we  proceeded  direct  to 
the  new  camp  for  German  prisoners  at 
Connantre.  The  prisoners  were  mostly 
men  who  had  been  taken  in  the  recent 
fighting  on  the  Somme  or  around  Verdun. 
The  camp  was  already  excellently  in- 
stalled and  the  prisoners  were  busy  in 
groups  gardening,  making  bread,  or  sit- 
ting before  great  heaps  of  potatoes  pre- 
paring them  for  the  evening  meal.  In  one 
corner  the  inevitable  German  Band  was 

[28] 


THE   TRENCH   DOG    WEARING   HIS   GAS   MASK.        HIS  WONDERFUL 
TRAINING    AIDED    BY    HIS   NATURAL   SAGACITY    RENDERS    HIM 
A   HOLY   TERROR   TO    PROWLING    BOCHES    AND   SPIES 


RECRUITING  RAT-CATCHERS 

preparing  for  an  evening  concert.  The 
German  sense  of  order  was  everywhere  in 
evidence.  In  the  long  barracks  where  the 
men  slept  the  beds  were  tidy,  and  above 
each  bed  was  a  small  shelf,  each  shelf  ar- 
ranged in  exactly  the  same  order,  the  prin- 
cipal ornaments  being  a  mug,  fork  and 
spoon ;  and  just  as  each  bed  resembled  each 
other  bed,  so  the  fork  and  spoon  were 
placed  in  their  respective  mugs  at  exactly 
the  same  angle.  There  were  small  parti- 
tioned apartments  for  the  non-commis- 
sioned officers. 

The  French  Commander  of  the  camp 
told  us  that  the  German  love  of  holding 
some  form  of  office  was  everywhere  ap- 
parent. The  French  made  no  attempt  to 
command  the  prisoners  themselves,  but 
always  chose  men  from  amongst  the  pris- 
oners who  were  placed  in  authority  over 
their  comrades.  The  prisoners  rejoiced 
exceedingly  and  promptly  increased  in 
self-importance  and,  alas,  decreased  in 
manners,  if  they  were  given  the  smallest 
[29] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

position  which  raised  them  above  the  level 
of  the  rest  of  the  men. 

In  the  barrack  where  they  were  cutting 
up  bread  for  the  prisoners,  we  asked  the 
men  if  they  deeply  regretted  their  cap- 
tivity. They  replied  unanimously  that 
they  were  "rather  glad  to  be  well  fed," 
which  seemed  an  answer  in  itself.  They 
did  not,  however,  appreciate  the  white 
bread,  and  stated  that  they  preferred  their 
own  black  bread.  The  French  officers 
commanding  the  camp  treat  the  prisoners 
as  naughty  children  who  must  be  "kept  in 
the  corner"  and  punished  for  their  own 
good.  In  all  my  travels  through  France  I 
have  never  seen  any  bitterness  shown 
towards  the  prisoners.  I  remember  once 
at  Nevers  we  passed  a  group  of  German 
prisoners,  and  amongst  them  was  a 
wounded  man  who  was  lying  in  a  small 
cart.  A  hand  bag  had  fallen  across  his 
leg,  and  none  of  his  comrades  attempted 
to  remove  it.  A  French  woman  pushing 
her  way  between  the  guards,  lifted  it  off 
and  gave  it  to  one  of  the  Germans  to 

[30] 


RECRUITING   RAT-CATCHERS 

carry.  When  the  guards  tried  to  remon- 
strate she  replied  simply:  "J'ai  un  fils 
prisonnier  la  bos,  faut  esperer  quune  alle- 
mande  ferait  autant  pour  lui."  ( "I  have  a 
son  who  is  a  prisoner  in  their  land ;  let  us 
hope  that  some  German  woman  would  do 
as  much  for  him.") 

On  the  battlefields  the  kindness  of  the 
French  medical  men  to  the  German 
wounded  has  always  been  conspicuous. 
One  of  my  neutral  friends  passing 
through  Germany  heard  from  one  of  the 
prominent  German  surgeons  that  they 
were  well  aware  of  this  fact,  and  knew 
that  their  wounded  received  every  atten- 
tion. There  is  a  story  known  through9ut 
France  of  a  French  doctor  who  was  at- 
tending a  wounded  German  on  the  battle- 
field. The  man,  who  was  probably  half 
delirious,  snatched  at  a  revolver  which  was 
lying  near  by  and  attempted  to  shoot  the 
doctor.  The  doctor  took  the  revolver 
from  him,  patted  him  on  the  head,  and 
said:  "Voyons,  voyons,  ne  faites  pas  I' en- 
fant" ("Now  then,  now  then,  don't  be 
[31] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

childish")     and    went    on    dressing    his 
wounds. 

Everywhere  you  hear  accounts  of  broth- 
erly love  and  religious  tolerance.  I  re- 
member kneeling  once  by  the  side  of  a 
dying  French  soldier  who  was  tenderly 
supported  in  the  arms  of  a  famous  young 
Mohammedan  surgeon,  an  Egyptian  who 
had  taken  his  degree  in  Edinburgh  and 
was  now  attached  to  the  French  Red 
Cross.  The  man's  mind  was  wandering, 
and  seeing  a  woman  beside  him  he  com- 
menced to  talk  to  me  as  to  his  betrothed. 
"This  war  cannot  last  always,  little  one, 
and  when  it  is  over  we  will  buy  a  pig  and 
a  cow  and  we  will  go  to  the  cure,  won't  we, 
beloved?"  Then  in  a  lucid  moment  he 
realised  that  he  was  dying,  and  he  com- 
menced to  pray,  "Ave  Maria,  Ave 
Maria,"  but  the  poor  tired  brain  could  re- 
member nothing  more.  He  turned  to  me 
to  continue,  but  I  could  no  longer  trust 
myself  to  speak,  and  it  was  the  Moham- 
medan who  took  up  the  prayer  and  con- 
tinued it  whilst  the  soldier  followed  with 

[32] 


RECRUITING   HAT-CATCHERS 

his  lips  until  his  soul  passed  away  into  the 
valley  of  shadows.  I  think  this  story  is 
only  equalled  in  its  broad  tolerance  by 
that  of  the  Rabbi  Bloch  of  Lyons,  who 
was  shot  at  the  battle  of  the  Aisne  whilst 
holding  a  crucifix  to  the  lips  of  a  dying 
Christian  soldier.  The  soldier  priests  of 
France  have  earned  the  love  and  respect 
of  even  the  most  irreligious  of  the  Poilus. 
They  never  hesitate  to  risk  their  lives,  and 
have  displayed  sublime  courage  and  devo- 
tion to  their  duty  as  priests  and  as  sol- 
diers. Behind  the  first  line  of  trenches  a 
soldier  priest  called  suddenly  to  attend  a 
dying  comrade,  took  a  small  dog  he  was 
nursing  and  handing  it  to  one  of  the  men 
simply  remarked,  "Take  care  of  the  little 
beast  for  me,  I  am  going  to  a  dangerous 
corner  and  I  do  not  want  it  killed." 


[33] 


A  GUN  CARRIAGE  AN  ALTAR 


IV 

A  GUN  CARRIAGE  AN  ALTAR 

I  have  seen  the  Mass  celebrated  on  a 
gun  carriage.  Vases  made  of  shell  cases 
were  filled  with  flowers  that  the  men 
had  risked  their  lives  to  gather  in  order 
to  deck  the  improvised  altar.  A  Red 
Cross  ambulance  drove  up  and  stopped 
near  by.  The  wounded  begged  to  be 
taken  out  on  their  stretchers  and  laid  at 
the  foot  of  the  altar  in  order  that  "they 
might  receive  the  blessing  of  the  good 
God"  before  starting  on  the  long  journey 
to  the  hospital  behind  the  lines. 

Outside  the  prison  camp  of  Cannantre 
stood  a  circle  of  French  soldiers  learning 
the  bugle  calls  for  the  French  Army.  I 
wondered  how  the  Germans  cared  to  listen 
to  the  martial  music  of  the  men  of  France, 
one  and  all  so  sure  of  the  ultimate  victory 
[37] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

of  their  country.  Half  a  kilometre  fur- 
ther on,  a  series  of  mock  trenches  had  been 
made  where  the  men  were  practising  the 
throwing  of  hand  grenades.  Every  avail- 
able inch  of  space  behind  the  French  lines 
is  made  to  serve  some  useful  purpose. 

I  never  see  a  hand  grenade  without 
thinking  how  difficult  it  is  just  now  to  be  a 
hero  in  France.  Every  man  is  really  a 
hero,  and  the  men  who  have  medals  are 
almost  ashamed  since  they  know  that 
nearly  all  their  comrades  merit  them.  It 
is  especially  difficult  to  be  a  hero  in  one's 
own  family.  One  of  the  men  in  our  hos- 
pital at  Royaumont  had  been  in  the 
trenches  during  an  attack.  A  grenade 
thrown  by  one  of  the  French  soldiers 
struck  the  parapet  and  rebounded 
amongst  the  men.  With  that  rapidity  of 
thought  which  is  part  of  the  French  char- 
acter, Jules  sat  on  the  grenade  and  ex- 
tinguished it.  For  this  act  of  bravery  he 
was  decorated  by  the  French  Government 
and  wrote  home  to  tell  his  wife.  I  found 
him  sitting  up  in  bed,  gloomily  reading 

[38] 


A   GUN   CARRIAGE   AN   ALTAR 

her  reply,  and  I  enquired  why  he  looked 
so  glum.  "Well,  Mademoiselle,"  he  re- 
plied, "I  wrote  to  my  wife  to  tell  her  of 
my  new  honour  and  see  what  she  says: 
'My  dear  Jules,  We  are  not  surprised  you 
got  a  medal  for  sitting  on  a  hand  grenade ; 
we  have  never  known  you  to  do  anything 
else  but  sit  down  at  home ! ! !' ' 

It  was  at  Fere  Champenoise  that  we 
passed  through  the  first  village  which  had 
been  entirely  destroyed  by  the  retreating 
Germans.  Only  half  the  church  was 
standing,  but  services  are  still  held  there 
every  Sunday.  Very  little  attempt  has 
been  made  to  rebuild  the  ruined  houses. 
Were  I  one  of  the  villagers  I  would  prefer 
to  raze  to  the  ground  all  that  remained  of 
the  desecrated  homesteads  and  build 
afresh  new  dwellings ;  happy  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  with  the  victory  of  the  Allies 
would  start  a  period  of  absolute  security, 
prosperity  and  peace. 


[39] 


LIFE  BEHIND  THE  LINES 


LIFE  BEHIND   THE  LINES 

Soon  after  leaving  Mailly  we  had  the 
privilege  of  beholding  some  of  the  four 
hundred  centimetre  guns  of  France,  all 
prepared  and  ready  to  travel  at  a  min- 
ute's notice  along  the  railway  lines  to  the 
section  where  they  might  be  needed.  Some 
idea  of  their  size  may  be  obtained  from 
the  fact  that  there  were  ten  axles  to  the 
base  on  which  they  travel.  They  were  all 
disguised  by  the  system  of  camouflage  em- 
ployed by  the  French  Army,  and  at  a  very 
short  distance  they  blend  with  the  land- 
scape f»nd  become  almost  invisible.  Each 
gun  bears  a  different  name,  "Alsace," 
"Lorraine,"  etc.,  and  with  that  strange 
irony  and  cynical  wit  of  the  French  troop- 
er, at  the  request  of  the  men  of  one  bat- 
tery, one  huge  gun  has  been  christened 
"Mosquito,"  "Because  it  stings." 
[43] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

The  French  often  use  a  bitter  and  bit- 
ing humour  in  speaking  of  the  enemy. 
For  instance,  amongst  the  many  pets  of 
the  men,  the  strangest  I  saw  was  a  small 
hawk  sitting  on  the  wrist  of  a  soldier  who 
had  trained  him.  The  bird  was  the  per- 
sonification of  evil.  If  any  one  ap- 
proached he  snapped  at  them  and  endeav- 
oured to  bite  them.  I  asked  the  man  why 
he  kept  him,  and  he  replied  that  they  had 
quite  good  sport  in  the  trenches  when  they 
allowed  the  hawk  to  hunt  small  birds  and 
field  mice.  Then  his  expression  changing 
from  jovial  good  humour  to  grimness,  he 
added,  "You  know,  I  call  him  'Zepp,'  be- 
cause he  kills  the  little  ones,"  (parcequil 
tue  Us  tons  petits.) 


[44] 


DEVOTION   TO   ANIMALS 


VI 

DEVOTION  TO  ANIMALS 

In  one  small  cantonment  where  two 
hundred  Poilus  sang,  shouted,  ate,  drank 
and  danced  together  to  the  strain  of 
a  wheezy  gramophone,  or  in  one  word 
were  "resting,"  I  started  to  investigate 
the  various  kinds  of  pets  owned  by  the 
troopers.  Cats,  dogs  and  monkeys  were 
common,  whilst  one  Poilu  was  the  proud 
possessor  of  a  parrot  which  he  had  pur- 
chased from  a  refugee  obliged  to  fly  from 
his  home.  He  hastened  to  assure  us  that 
the  bird  had  learned  his  "vocabulary" 
from  his  former  proprietor.  A  study  in 
black  and  white  was  a  group  of  three  or 
four  white  mice,  nestling  against  the  neck 
of  a  Senegalais. 

The  English  Tommy  is  quite  as  devoted 
to  animals  as  is  his  French  brother.  I 
[47] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

remember  crossing  one  bitter  February 
day  from  Boulogne  to  Folkestone. 
Alongside  the  boat,  on  the  quay  at  Bou- 
logne, were  lined  up  the  men  who  had 
been  granted  leave.  Arrayed  in  their 
shaggy  fur  coats  they  resembled  little  the 
smart  British  soldier  of  peace  times.  It 
was  really  wonderful  how  much  the  men 
managed  to  conceal  under  those  fur  coats, 
or  else  the  eye  of  the  officer  inspecting 
them  was  intentionally  not  too  keen. 

Up  the  gangway  trooped  the  men,  and 
I  noticed  that  two  of  them  walked  slowly 
and  cautiously.  The  boat  safely  out  of 
harbour,  one  of  them  produced  from  his 
chest  a  large  tabby  cat,  whilst  the  other 
placed  a  fine  cock  on  the  deck.  It  was  a 
cock  with  the  true  Gallic  spirit,  before  the 
cat  had  time  to  consider  the  situation  it 
had  sprung  on  its  back.  The  cat  beat  a 
hasty  retreat  into  the  arms  of  its  protector 
who  replaced  it  under  his  coat.  Once  in 
safety  it  stuck  out  its  head  and  swore  at 
the  cock,  which,  perched  on  a  coil  of  rope, 
crowed  victoriously.  Both  had  been  the 

[48] 


DEVOTION   TO   ANIMALS 

companions  of  the  men  in  the  trenches, 
and  they  were  bringing  them  home. 

A  soldier  standing  near  me  began  to 
grumble  because  he  had  not  been  able  to 
bring  his  pet  with  him.  I  enquired  why 
he  had  left  it  behind  since  the  others  had 
brought  theirs  away  with  them,  and  elic- 
ited the  information  that  his  pet  was  "a 
cow,  and  therefore  somewhat  difficult  to 
transport."  He  seemed  rather  hurt  that 
I  should  laugh,  and  assured  me  it  was  "a 
noble  animal,  brown  with  white  spots,  and 
had  given  himself  and  his  comrades  two 
quarts  of  milk  a  day."  He  looked  dis- 
dainfully at  the  cock  and  cat.  "They 
could  have  left  them  behind  and  no  one 
would  have  pinched  them,  whereas  I  know 
I'll  never  see  'Sarah'  again,  she  was  far 
too  useful." 

Entering  Vitry-le-Francois  we  had  a 
splendid  example  of  the  typical  "motto" 
of  the  French  trooper,  "II  ne  faut  pas  s'en 
faire."  One  of  the  motor  cars  had  broken 
down,  and  the  officer-occupants,  who  were 
evidently  not  on  an  urgent  mission,  had 
[49] 


THE   WHITE   ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

gone  to  sleep  on  the  banks  by  the  side  of 
the  road  whilst  the  chauffeur  was  making 
the  necessary  repairs.  We  offered  him 
assistance,  but  he  was  progressing  quite 
well  alone.  Later  on  another  officer  re- 
lated to  me  his  experience  when  his  car 
broke  down  at  midnight  some  twelve  miles 
from  a  village.  The  chauffeur  was  mak- 
ing slow  headway  with  the  repairs.  The 
officer  enquired  whether  he  really  under- 
stood the  job,  and  received  the  reply, 
"Yes,  mon  Lieutenant,  I  think  I  do,  but 
I  am  rather  a  novice,  as  before  the  war  I 
was  a  lion-tamer!"  Apparently  the  gal- 
lant son  of  Gaul  found  it  easier  to  tame 
lions  than  to  repair  motors. 


[50] 


HUNTING  FOR  GENERALS 


VII 

HUNTING  FOR  GENERALS 

We  left  Vitry-le-Fran9ois  at  six  o'clock 
next  morning,  and  started  "the  hunt  for 
Generals."  It  is  by  no  means  easy  to  dis- 
cover where  the  actual  Headquarters  of 
the  General  of  any  particular  sector  is 
situated. 

We  were  not  yet  really  on  the  "White 
Road"  to  Verdun,  and  there  was  still 
much  to  be  seen  that  delighted  the  eyes. 
In  one  yellow  cornfield  there  appeared  to 
be  enormous  poppies.  On  approaching  we 
discovered  a  detachment  of  Tirailleurs 
from  Algiers,  sitting  in  groups,  and  the 
"poppies"  were  the  red  fezes  of  the  men — 
a  gorgeous  blending  of  crimson  and  gold. 
We  threw  a  large  box  of  cigarettes  to 
them  and  were  greeted  with  shouts  of  joy 
and  thanks.  The  Tirailleurs  are  the 
[53] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

enfants  terribles  of  the  French  Army. 
One  noble  son  of  Africa  who  was  being 
treated  in  one  of  the  hospitals  once  pre- 
sented me  with  an  aluminium  ring  made 
from  a  piece  of  German  shell.  I  asked 
him  to  make  one  for  one  of  my  comrades 
who  was  working  at  home,  and  he  in- 
formed me  that  nothing  would  have  given 
greater  pleasure,  but  unfortunately  he  had 
no  more  aluminium.  Later  in  the  day, 
passing  through  the  ward,  I  saw  him  sur- 
rounded by  five  or  six  Parisian  ladies  who 
were  showering  sweets,  cigarettes  and 
flowers  on  him,  whilst  he  was  responding 
by  presenting  each  of  them  with  an  alu- 
minium ring.  When  they  had  left  I  went 
to  him  and  told  him  "Mahmud,  that  was 
not  kind.  I  asked  you  for  a  ring  and  you 
said  you  had  not  got  any  more  alumin- 
ium." He  smiled  and  his  nurse,  who  was 
passing,  added,  "No,  he  had  not  got  any 
more  aluminium,  but  when  he  is  better  he 
will  get  forty-eight  hours'  punishment ;  he 
has  been  into  the  kitchen,  stolen  one  of 
our  best  aluminium  saucepans,  and  has 

[54] 


THE     CAR   IN    WHICH    I    MADE   THE   JODRN'EY    INTO    VERDUN 


HUNTING  FOR  GENERALS 

been  making  souvenirs  for  the  ladies."  He 
made  no  attempt  to  justify  his  action 
beyond  stating:  "Moi,  pas  si  mauvais,  toi 
pas  faux  souvenir"  ("I  am  not  so  bad,  I 
did  not  try  to  give  you  a  fake  souvenir"). 

Another  of  our  chocolate  coloured  pa- 
tients found  in  the  grounds  of  the  hospital 
an  old  umbrella.  Its  ribs  stuck  out  and  it 
was  full  of  holes,  but  it  gave  him  the  idea 
of  royalty  and  daily  he  sat  up  in  bed  in 
the  ward  with  the  umbrella  unfurled 
whilst  he  laid  down  the  law  to  his  com- 
rades. The  nurses  endeavoured  to  per- 
suade him  to  hand  it  over  at  night.  He 
obstinately  refused,  insisting  that  "he 
knew  his  comrades,"  and  he  feared  that 
one  of  them  would  certainly  steal  the 
treasure,  so  he  preferred  to  keep  it  in  the 
bed  with  him. 

At  Villers-le-Sec  we  came  upon  the 
headquarters  of  the  cooks  for  that  section 
of  the  Front.  The  cook  is  one  of  the  most 
important  men  in  a  French  regiment;  he 
serves  many  ends.  When  carrying  the 
food  through  the  communicating  trenches 
[55] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  TERDUN 

to  the  front  line  trenches  he  is  always  sup- 
posed to  bring  to  the  men  the  latest  news, 
the  latest  tale  which  is  going  the  round  of 
the  camp,  and  anything  that  may  happen 
to  interest  them.  If  he  has  not  got  any 
news  he  must  manufacture  and  produce 
some  kind  of  story.  It  is  really  necessary 
for  him  to  be  not  only  a  cook  but  also  an 
author. 

There  is  a  tale  going  the  round  of  the 
French  Army  how  one  section  of  the 
Cooks,  although  unarmed,  managed  to 
take  some  twenty  German  prisoners.  As 
they  went  on  their  way,  they  saw  the  Ger- 
mans in  the  distance  approaching  them ;  the 
Head  Cook  quietly  drew  the  field  kitch- 
ens behind  a  clump  of  trees  and  bushes, 
placed  his  men  in  a  row,  each  with  a  cook- 
ing utensil  in  his  hand,  and  as  the  Ger- 
mans passed  shouted  to  them  to  surren- 
der. The  sun  fell  on  the  handles  of  the 
saucepans,  causing  them  to  shine  like  bay- 
onets, and  the  Germans,  taken  unawares, 
laid  down  their  arms.  The  Head  Cook 
then  stepped  out  and  one  by  one  took  the 

[56] 


HUNTING  FOR  GENERALS 

rifles  from  the  enemy  and  handed  them  to 
his  men.  It  was  only  when  he  had  dis- 
armed the  Germans  and  armed  his  com- 
rades that  he  gave  the  signal  for  them  to 
step  out,  and  the  Germans  saw  that  they 
had  been  taken  by  a  ruse.  One  can  imag- 
ine the  joy  of  the  French  troops  in  the 
next  village  when,  with  a  soup  ladle  in  his 
hand,  his  assistants  armed  with  German 
rifles,  followed  by  the  soup  kitchen  and 
twenty  prisoners — he  marched  in  to 
report. 


AN  INSTANCE  OF  QUICK  WIT 


VIII 

AN   INSTANCE  OF  QUICK  WIT 

It  is  curious  how  near  humour  is  to 
tragedy  in  war,  how  quick  wit  may  serve 
a  useful  purpose,  and  even  save  life.  A 
young  French  medical  student  told  me 
that  he  owed  his  life  to  the  quick  wit  of 
the  women  of  a  village  and  the  sense  of 
humour  of  a  Saxon  officer.  Whilst  pass- 
ing from  one  hospital  to  another  he  was 
captured  by  a  small  German  patrol,  and 
in  spite  of  his  papers  proving  that  he  was 
attached  to  the  Red  Cross  Service,  he  was 
tried  as  a  spy  and  condemned  to  be  shot. 
At  the  opening  of  his  trial  the  women  had 
been  interested  spectators,  towards  the 
end  all  of  them  had  vanished.  He  was 
placed  against  a  barn  door,  the  firing 
squad  lined  up,  when  from  behind  the 
hedge  bordering  a  wood,  the  women  be- 
[61] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

gan  to  bombard  the  soldiers  with  eggs. 
The  aim  was  excellent,  not  one  man  es- 
caped; the  German  officer  laughed  at  the 
plight  of  his  men  and,  in  the  brief  respite 
accorded,  the  young  man  dashed  towards 
the  hedge  and  vanished  in  the  under- 
growth. The  Germans  fired  a  few  shots 
but  there  was  no  organised  attempt  to  fol- 
low him,  probably  because  their  own  posi- 
tion was  not  too  secure.  He  was  loth  to 
leave  the  women  to  face  the  music,  but 
they  insisted  that  it  was  pour  la  patrie  and 
that  they  were  quite  capable  of  taking 
care  of  themselves.  Later  he  again  visited 
the  village  and  the  women  told  him  that 
beyond  obliging  them  to  clean  the  sol- 
diers' clothes  thoroughly,  the  German  of- 
ficer had  inflicted  no  other  punishment 
upon  them. 

A  certain  number  of  inhabitants  are 
still  living  in  the  village  of  Revigny.  You 
see  everywhere  placards  announcing 
"Caves  pour  25,"  "Caves  pour  100,"  and 
each  person  knows  to  which  cellar  he  is  to 
go  if  a  Taube  should  start  bombing 

[«*) 


the  village.  I  saw  one  cellar  marked  "120 
persons,  specially  safe,  reserved  for  the 
children."  Children  are  one  of  the  most 
valuable  assets  of  France,  and  a  good  old 
Territorial  "Pe-Pere"  (Daddy),  as  they 
are  nicknamed,  told  me  that  it  was  his  spe- 
cial but  difficult  duty  to  muster  the  chil- 
dren directly  a  Taube  was  signalled  and 
chase  them  down  into  the  cellar.  Mop- 
ping his  brow  he  assured  me  that  it  was 
not  easy  to  catch  the  little  beggars,  who 
hid  in  the  ruins,  behind  the  army  wagons, 
anywhere  to  escape  the  "parental"  eye, 
even  standing  in  rain  barrels  up  to  their 
necks  in  water.  It  is  needless  to  add 
they  consider  it  a  grave  infringement  of 
their  personal  liberty  and  think  that  they 
should  be  allowed  to  remain  in  the  open 
and  see  all  that  goes  on,  just  as  the  little 
Londoners  beg  and  coax  to  be  allowed  to 
stay  up  "to  see  the  Zepps." 

Passing  the  railway  station  we  stopped 
to  make  some  enquiries,  and  promptly  as- 
certained all  we  wished  to  know  from  the 
Chef  de  Gare.    In  the  days  of  peace  there 
[63] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

is  in  France  no  one  more  officious  than  the 
station  master  of  a  small  but  prosperous 
village.  Now  he  is  the  meekest  of  men. 
Braided  cap  in  hand  he  goes  along  the 
train  from  carriage  door  to  carriage  door 
humbly  requesting  newspapers  for  the 
wounded  in  the  local  hospitals:  "Nous 
avons  cent  vingt  cinq  blesses  id,  cela  les 
fait  tant  de  plaisir  d'avoir  des  nouvelles" 
(We  have  125  wounded  here  and  they 
love  to  hear  the  news.) 

In  addition  to  levying  a  toll  on  printed 
matter,  he  casts  a  covetous  and  meaning 
glance  on  any  fruit  or  chocolate  that  may 
be  visible.  Before  the  train  is  out  of  the 
station,  you  can  see  the  once  busy,  and  in 
his  own  opinion,  all-important  railway 
official,  vanishing  down  the  road  to  carry 
his  spoils  to  his  suffering  comrades.  Rail- 
way travelling  is  indeed  expensive  in 
France.  No  matter  what  time  of  day  or 
night,  wet  or  fine,  the  trains  are  met  at 
each  station  by  devoted  women  who  ex- 
tract contributions  for  the  Red  Cross 

[64J 


AN  INSTANCE  OF  QUICK  WIT 

Funds  from  the  pockets  of  willing  givers. 
It  is  only  fair  to  state,  however,  that  in 
most  instances  the  station  master  gets 
there  first. 


[65] 


AT  THE  HEADQUARTERS  OF 
GENERAL  PETAIN 


IX 

AT   THE   HEADQUARTERS   OF   GENERAL 
PETAIN 

From  the  time  we  left  Revigny  until 
we  had  passed  into  the  Champagne  coun- 
try, upon  the  return  journey  from  Ver- 
dun, we  no  longer  saw  a  green  tree  or 
a  blade  of  green  grass;  we  were  now  in- 
deed upon  the  "White  Road  which  leads 
unto  Verdun."  Owing  to  an  exception- 
ally trying  and  dry  summer  the  roads  are 
thick  with  white  dust.  The  continual 
passing  of  the  camions,  the  splendid  trans- 
port wagons  of  the  French  Army,  carry- 
ing either  food,  munitions,  or  troops,  has 
stirred  up  the  dust  and  coated  the  fields, 
trees  and  hedges  with  a  thick  layer  of 
white.  It  is  almost  as  painful  to  the  eyes 
as  the  snow-fields  of  the  Alps. 

I  saw  one  horse  that  looked  exactly  like 
[69] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD  TO  VERDUN 

a  plaster  statuette.  His  master  had 
scrubbed  him  down,  but  before  he  dried 
the  white  dust  had  settled  on  him  every- 
where. Naturally  humans  do  not  escape. 
By  the  time  our  party  reached  the  Head- 
quarters of  General  Petain  we  had  joined 
the  White  Brigade.  I  excused  myself  to 
the  General,  who  smilingly  replied:  "Why 
complain,  Mademoiselle,  you  are  charm- 
ing; your  hair  is  powdered  like  that  of  a 
Marquise."  The  contrast  with  what  had 
been  a  black  fur  cap  on  what  was  now  per- 
fectly white  hair  justified  his  compliment. 
I  have  never  been  renowned  in  my  life 
for  fear  of  any  individual,  but  I  must  ad- 
mit that  I  passed  into  the  presence  of 
General  Petain  with  a  great  deal  of  re- 
spect amounting  almost  to  awe.  The  de- 
fence of  Verdun  through  .the  bitter 
months  of  February  and  March  by  Gen- 
eral Petain,  a  defence  which  is  now  under 
the  immediate  control  of  his  able  lieuten- 
ants General  Nivelle  and  General  Dubois, 
has  earned  the  respect  and  admiration  of 
the  whole  world.  It  is  impossible  not  to 

[70] 


GENERALS   JOFFRE    AND    PETAIN    AT   THE    LATTER 's   HEADQUARTERS 


AT  HEADQUARTERS  OF  GENERAL  PETAIN 

feel  the  deepest  admiration  for  these  men 
who  have  earned  such  undying  glory,  not 
only  for  themselves,  but  for  their  Mother- 
land. 

No  one  could  have  been  more  gracious 
and  kind  than  General  Petain,  and  in  his 
presence  one  realised  the  strength  and 
power  of  France.  Throughout  all  the 
French  Headquarters  one  is  impressed  by 
the  perfect  calm;  no  excitement;  every- 
thing perfectly  organised. 

General  Petain  asked  me  at  once  to  tell 
him  what  I  desired.  I  asked  his  permis- 
sion to  go  to  Rheims.  He  at  once  took 
up  a  paper  which  permitted  me  to  enter 
the  war  zone  and  endorsed  it  with  the  re- 
quest to  General  Debeney  in  Rheims  to 
allow  me  to  penetrate  with  my  compan- 
ions into  the  city.  He  then  turned  to  me 
again  and  asked  me,  with  a  knowing 
smile,  if  that  was  all  I  required — for  his 
Headquarters  were  hardly  on  the  direct 
road  to  Rheims!  I  hesitated  to  express 
my  real  wish,  when  my  good  counsellor 
and  friend,  with  whom  I  was  making  the 
[71] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

journey,  the  Commandant  Jean  de  Pul- 
ligny,  answered  for  me:  "I  feel  sure  it 
would  be  a  great  happiness  and  honour  if 
you  would  allow  us,  General,  to  go  to  Ver- 
dun." General  Petain  appeared  slightly 
surprised,  and  turning  to  me  asked:  "Do 
you  thoroughly  realise  the  danger?  You 
have  crossed  the  Atlantic  and  faced  sub- 
marines, but  you  will  risk  more  in  five 
minutes  in  Verdun  than  in  crossing  the 
Atlantic  a  thousand  times."  However, 
seeing  that  I  was  really  anxious  to  go,  and 
that  it  might  be  of  great  service  to  me  in 
my  future  work  to  have  seen  personally 
the  defence  of  Verdun,  he  added  smil- 
ingly: "Well  then,  you  can  go  if  you  wish 
at  your  own  risk  and  peril."  He  then 
telephoned  to  General  Nivelle  the  neces- 
sary permission  for  us  to  enter  Verdun. 

I  doubt  whether  General  Petain  real- 
ises the  respect  in  which  he  is  held  in  all 
the  civilised  countries  of  the  world.  Prob- 
ably he  does  not  yet  understand  that  peo- 
ple would  come  thousands  of  miles  to  have 
five  minutes'  audience  with  him,  for  he 


AT  HEADQUARTERS  OF  GENERAL  PETAIN 

enquired  if  we  were  in  any  hurry  to  con- 
tinue our  journey,  and  added  with  charm- 
ing simplicity — "Because  if  not,  and  you 
do  not  mind  waiting  an  hour,  I  shall  be 
glad  if  you  will  lunch  with  me." 


[73] 


A  MEETING  WITH  "FORAIN' 


A  MEETING  WITH   "FORAIN" 


We  lunched  with  General  Petain  and 
his  Etat  Major.  A  charming  and  most 
interesting  addition  to  the  party  was  M. 
Forain,  the  famous  French  caricaturist, 
and  now  one  of  the  Chief  Instructors  of 
the  French  Army  in  the  art  of  camouflage 
— the  art  of  making  a  thing  look  like  any- 
thing in  the  world  except  what  it  is !  He 
has  established  a  series  of  schools  all  along 
the  French  Front,  where  the  Poilus  learn 
to  bedeck  their  guns  and  thoroughly  dis- 
guise them  under  delicate  shades  of  green 
and  yellow,  with  odd  pink  spots,  in  order 
to  relieve  the  monotony.  Certainly  the 
appearance  of  the  guns  of  the  present 
time  would  rejoice  the  heart  and  soul  of 
the  "Futurists."  It  was  most  interesting 
to  hear  him  describe  the  work  in  detail 
[77] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

and  the  rapidity  with  which  his  pupils 
learned  the  new  art.  For  one  real  bat- 
tery there  are  probably  three  or  four  false 
ones,  beautiful  wooden  guns,  etc.,  etc.,  and 
he  told  us  of  the  Poilus'  new  version  of 
the  song  "Rien  n'est  plus  beau  que  noire 
Patrie"  ("Nothing  is  more  beautiful  than 
our  country").  They  now  sing  "Rien 
riest  plus  faux  que  noire  batterie" 
("Nothing  is  more  false  than  our  bat- 
tery"). 

It  was  M.  Forain  who  coined  the  fa- 
mous phrase  "that  there  was  no  fear  for 
the  ultimate  success  of  the  Allies,  if  only 
the  civilians  held  out!" 

I  was  much  amused  at  M.  Forain's 
statement  that  he  had  already  heard  that 
a  company  had  been  formed  for  erecting, 
after  the  War,  wooden  hotels  on  the  bat- 
tlefields of  France  for  the  accommodation 
of  sightseers.  Not  only  was  it  certain  that 
these  hotels  were  to  be  built,  but  the  rooms 
were  already  booked  in  advance. 


[78] 


VALUE  OF  WOMEN'S  WORK 


XI 

VALUE  OF  WOMEN'S  WORK 

It  was  strange  to  find  there,  within  the 
sound  of  the  guns — sometimes  the  glasses 
on  the  table  danced  to  the  music  although 
no  one  took  any  notice  of  that — sur- 
rounded by  men  directing  the  operations 
of  the  war  and  of  one  of  the  greatest  bat- 
tles in  history,  how  little  War  was  men- 
tioned. Science,  Philosophy  and  the  work 
of  women  were  discussed. 

The  men  of  France  are  taking  deep  in- 
terest in  the  splendid  manner  in  which 
the  women  of  all  the  different  nations  are 
responding  to  the  call  to  service.  I  de- 
scribed to  General  Petain  the  work  of  the 
Scottish  Women's  Hospitals.  These  mag- 
nificent hospitals  are  organised  and 
staffed  entirely  by  women  and  started,  in 
the  first  instance,  by  the  Scottish  Branch 
[81] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

of  the  National  Union  of  Women's  Suf- 
frage. He  was  deeply  interested  to  learn 
that  what  had  been  before  the  War  a  po- 
litical society  had,  with  that  splendid 
spirit  of  patriotism  which  had  from  the 
first  day  of  the  war  animated  every  man, 
woman  and  child  of  Great  Britain,  drawn 
upon  its  funds  and  founded  the  Hospital 
Units.  I  explained  to  him  that  it  was  no 
longer  a  question  of  politics,  but  simply  a 
case  of  serving  humanity  and  serving  it  to 
the  best  possible  advantage.  The  Na- 
tional Union  had  realised  that  this  was  a 
time  for  organised  effort  on  the  part  of 
all  women  for  the  benefit  of  the  human 
race  and  the  alleviation  of  suffering. 

I  spoke  of  the  bravery  of  our  girls  in 
Serbia;  how  many  of  them  had  laid  down 
their  lives  during  the  typhus  epidemic; 
how  cheerfully  they  had  borne  hardships, 
our  doctors  writing  home  that  their  tent 
hospitals  were  like  "great  white  birds 
spreading  their  wings  under  the  trees," 
whereas  really  they  had  often  been  up  all 
night  hanging  on  to  the  tent  poles  to  pre- 

[82] 


A    SERBIAN    REFUGEE    BOY 


VALUE  OF  WOMEN  S   WORK 

vent  the  tents  collapsing  over  their  pa- 
tients. 

A  member  of  the  Etat  Major  asked 
how  we  overcame  the  language  difficulty. 
I  pointed  out  that  to  diagnose  typhus  and 
watch  the  progress  of  the  patient  it  was 
not  necessary  to  speak  to  him,  and  that  by 
the  magic  language  of  sympathy  we  man- 
aged to  establish  some  form  of  "under- 
standing" between  the  patients,  the  Doc- 
tors, and  the  Nurses.  The  members  of 
our  staff  were  chosen  as  far  as  possible 
with  a  knowledge  of  French  or  German, 
and  it  was  possible  to  find  many  Serbians 
speaking  either  one  of  these  languages. 
We  also  found  interpreters  amongst  the 
Austrian  prisoner  orderlies.  These  pris- 
oner orderlies  had  really  proved  useful 
and  had  done  their  best  to  Help  us.  Natu- 
rally they  had  their  faults.  One  of  our 
Lady  Doctors  had  as  orderly  a  Viennese 
Professor,  willing  but  somewhat  absent- 
minded.  One  morning  she  sent  for  him 
and  asked  him:  "Herr  Karl,  can  you  tell 
me  what  was  wrong  with  my  bath  water 
[83] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

this  morning?"  "I  really  don't  know, 
Fraulein,  but  I  will  endeavour  to  find 
out." 

Ten  minutes  later  he  returned,  looking 
decidedly  guilty  and  stammered  out,  "I 
do  not  know  how  to  tell  you  what  hap- 
pened to  that  bath  water."  "Nonsense, 
it  can't  be  very  terrible,"  replied  Doctor 
X.  "What  was  wrong?"  "Well,  Fraulein, 
when  I  went  into  the  camp  kitchen  this 
morning  there  were  two  cauldrons  there, 
one  was  your  bath  water,  and  the  other 
was  the  camp  soup.  To  you,  Fraulein,  I 
brought  the  camp  soup." 

We  who  had  worked  with  the  Serbians 
had  learned  to  respect  and  admire  them 
for  their  patriotism,  courage  and  patient 
endurance.  We  felt  that  their  outstanding 
characteristic  was  their  imagination,  which, 
turned  into  the  proper  channels  and  given 
a  chance  to  develop,  should  produce  for 
the  world  not  only  famous  painters  and 
poets  but  also  great  inventors.  This  vivid 
imagination  is  found  in  the  highest  and 
lowest  of  the  land.  To  illustrate  it,  I  told 

[84] 


VALUE   OF   WOMEN  S  WORK 

my  neighbour  at  table  a  tale  related  to  me 
by  my  good  friend  Dr.  Popovic.  "Two 
weary,  ragged  Serbian  soldiers  were  sit- 
ting huddled  together  waiting  to  be  or- 
dered forward  to  fight.  One  asked  the 
other,  "Do  you  know  how  this  War 
started,  Milan?  You  don't.  Well  then  I'll 
tell  you.  The  Sultan  of  Turkey  sent  our 
King  Peter  a  sack  of  rice.  King  Peter 
looked  at  the  sack,  smiled,  then  took 
a  very  small  bag  and  went  into  his  garden 
and  filled  it  with  red  pepper.  He  sent 
the  bag  of  red  pepper  to  the  Sultan  of 
Turkey.  Now,  Milan,  you  can  see  what 
that  meant.  The  Sultan  of  Turkey  said 
to  our  Peter,  'My  army  is  as  numerous 
as  the  grains  of  rice  in  this  sack,'  and  by 
sending  a  small  bag  of  red  pepper  to  the 
Sultan  our  Peter  replied,  'My  Army  is 
not  very  numerous,  but  it  is  mighty  hot 
stuff.' " 

Many  members  of  the  Units  of  the 

Scottish    Women's    Hospitals    who   had 

been  driven  out  of  Serbia  at  the  time  of 

the  great  invasion  had  asked  to  be  allowed 

[85] 


THE  WHITE   ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

to  return  to  work  for  the  Serbians,  and  we 
were  now  equipping  fresh  units,  entirely 
staffed  by  women,  to  serve  with  the  Ser- 
bian Army,  besides  having  at  the  present 
time  the  medical  care  of  six  thousand  Ser- 
bian refugees  on  the  island  of  Corsica. 

General  Petain  said  smiling  that  before 
the  war  he  had  sometimes  thought  of 
women  "as  those  who  inspired  the  most 
beautiful  ideas  in  men  and  prevented  them 
from  carrying  them  out,"  but  the  war,  he 
added,  had  certainly  proved  conclusively 
the  value  of  women's  work. 

M.  Forain  expressed  the  desire  to  visit 
the  chief  French  Hospital  of  the  Scottish 
Women  at  the  Abbaye  de  Royaumont. 
The  General  laughingly  told  him,  "You 
do  not  realise  how  stern  and  devoted  to 
duty  those  ladies  are.  I  wonder  if  you 
would  be  permitted  to  visit  them?" 

I  consoled  M.  Forain  by  pointing  out 
that  surely  as  chief  Camoufler  (dis- 
guiser)  of  the  French  Army,  he  could  dis- 
guise himself  as  a  model  of  virtue  (de  se 
camoufler  en  bon  garpon) .  Certainly  this 

[86] 


WOMANLY    TENDERNESS.      PATIENT   UNDERGOING 
SUN    AND   SALT  TREATMENT 


VALUE   OF   WOMEN  S  WORK 

son  of  France,  who  has  turned  his  brilliant 
intellect  and  his  art  to  the  saving  of  men's 
lives,  would  be  welcome  anywhere  and 
everywhere.  I  hastened  to  assure  him 
that  I  was  only  teasing  him,  and  added 
that  I  only  teased  the  people  I  admired 
and  liked.  General  Petain  immediately 
turned  to  the  Commandant  de  Pulligny — 
"Please  remark  that  she  has  not  yet  teased 
me."  "Probably  because  she  fears  to  do  it, 
and  has  too  much  respect  for  you,"  replied 
the  Commandant.  "Fears!  I  do  not  think 
we  need  talk  of  that  just  now,  when  she 
dares  to  go  to  Verdun." 

Whilst  at  coffee  after  lunch  the  news 
came  of  the  continued  advance  of  the 
British  troops.  General  Petain  turned  to 
me  and  said,  "You  must  indeed  be  proud 
in  England  of  your  new  army.  Please  tell 
your  English  people  of  our  admiration  of 
the  magnificent  effort  of  England.  The 
raising  and  equipping  of  your  giant  army 
in  such  a  short  time  was  indeed  a  colossal 
task.  How  well  it  was  carried  out  all  the 
[87] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

world  now  knows  and  we  are  reaping  the 
harvest." 

The  General's  Chief  of  Staff  added: 
"Lord  Kitchener  was  right  when  he  said 
the  war  would  last  three  years"-  -"the  first 
year  preparation,  the  second  year  defence, 
and  the  third  year  cela  sera  rigolo  (it 
will  be  huge  sport)."  He  quoted  the 
phrase  as  Lord  Kitchener's  own. 

Before  we  left  the  General  signed  for 
me  the  menu  of  the  lunch,  pointing  out  to 
me,  however,  that  if  I  were  at  any  time 
to  show  the  menu  to  the  village  policeman 
I  must  assure  him  that  the  hare  which 
figured  thereon  had  been  run  over  at  night 
by  a  motor  car  and  lost  its  life  owing  to 
an  accident,  otherwise  he  might,  he  feared, 
be  fined  for  killing  game  out  of  season ! 

I  shall  always  remember  the  picture  of 
General  Petain  seeing  us  into  our  car  with 
his  parting  words,  "You  are  about  to  do 
the  most  dangerous  thing  you  have  ever 
done  or  will  ever  do  in  your  life.  As  for 
Verdun,  tell  them  in  England  that  I  am 
smiling  and  I  am  sure  that  when  you  see 

[88] 


VALUE   OF   WOMEN  S   WORK 

General  Nivelle  you  will  find  him  smiling 
too.  That  is  the  best  answer  I  can  give 
you  as  to  how  things  are  going  with  us 
at  Verdun."  Then  with  a  friendly  wave 
of  his  hand  we  passed  on  our  way. 

After  leaving  the  Headquarters  of 
General  Petain  we  were  held  up  for  some 
time  at  a  level  crossing  and  watched  the 
busy  little  train  puffing  along,  carrying 
towards  Verdun  stores,  munitions  and 
men.  This  level  crossing  had  been  the 
scene  of  active  fighting ;  on  each  side  were 
numerous  graves,  and  the  sentinels  off 
duty  were  passing  from  one  to  the  other 
picking  a  dead  leaf  or  drawing  a  branch 
of  trailing  vine  over  the  resting  places  of 
their  comrades. 

Above  our  heads  circled  eeles  guepes" 
the  wasps  of  the  French  Army.  They  had 
been  aroused  by  the  appearance  of  a 
Taube  and  were  preparing  to  sting  had 
the  Taube  waited  or  made  any  further 
attempt  to  proceed  over  the  French  lines. 
However,  deciding  that  discretion  was  the 
better  part  of  valour,  it  turned  and  fled. 
[89] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

It  is  unwise,  however,  to  stir  up  the 
"wasps  of  France";  they  followed  it,  and 
later  in  the  day  we  heard  that  it  had  been 
brought  down  near  Verdun. 

We  were  now  in  the  centre  of  activity 
of  the  army  defending  Verdun.  On  every 
hand  we  saw  artillery  parks,  ammunition 
parks,  and  regiments  resting,  whilst  along 
the  road  a  long  line  of  camions  passed 
unceasingly.  During  the  whole  length  of 
my  stay  on  the  French  Front  I  only  saw 
one  regiment  marching.  Everywhere  the 
men  are  conveyed  in  the  camions,  and 
are  thus  spared  the  fatigue  which  would 
otherwise  be  caused  by  the  intense  heat 
and  the  white  dust.  There  are  perhaps 
only  two  things  that  can  in  any  way  up- 
set the  perfect  indifference  to  difficulties 
of  the  French  trooper:  he  hates  to  walk, 
and  he  refuses  to  be  deprived  of  his 
"pinard."  The  men  of  the  French  Army 
have  named  their  red  wine  "pinard,"  just 
as  they  call  water  "la  flotte,"  always,  how- 
ever, being  careful  to  add  that  "la  flotte" 
is  excellent  "for  washing  one's  feet." 

[90] 


VALUE   OF   WOMEN  S   WORK 

As  we  passed  through  the  Headquarters 
of  General  Nivelle,  he  sent  down  word  to 
us  not  to  wait  to  call  on  him  then,  but  to 
proceed  at  once  to  Verdun  as  later  the 
passage  would  become  more  difficult.  He 
kindly  sent  down  to  us  one  of  the  officers 
of  his  staff  to  act  as  escort.  The  officer 
sat  by  our  chauffeur,  warning  him  of  the1 
dangerous  spots  in  the  road  which  the 
Germans  had  the  habit  of  "watering" 
from  time  to  time  with  "marmites,"  and 
ordering  him  to  put  on  extra  speed.  Our 
speed  along  the  road  into  Verdun  aver- 
aged well  over  a  mile  a  minute. 


[91] 


THE  "MOVIES"  UNDER  FIRE 


XII 

THE   "MOVIES"    UNDER  FIRE 

Within  range  of  the  German  guns, 
probably  not  more  than  four  or  five  kilo- 
metres from  Verdun,  we  came  on  a  line  of 
men  waiting  their  turn  to  go  into  the 
cinema.  After  all  there  was  no  reason 
" de  s'en  faire"  and  if  they  were  alive  they 
decided  they  might  as  well  be  happy  and 
amused.  Just  before  entering  the  gate  of 
Verdun  we  passed  a  number  of  ambu- 
lances, some  of  them  driven  by  the  Ameri- 
can volunteers.  These  young  Americans 
have  displayed  splendid  heroism  in  bring- 
ing in  the  wounded  under  difficult  condi- 
tions. Many  of  them  have  been  men- 
tioned in  despatches,  and  have  received 
from  France  the  Croix  de  Guerre.  I  also 
saw  an  ambulance  marked  "Lloyds." 

It  would  be  useless  to  pretend  that  one 
[95] 


THE  WHITE  EOAD   TO   VERDUN 

entered  Verdun  without  emotion, — Ver- 
dun, sorely  stricken,  yet  living,  kept  alive 
by  the  indomitable  soul  of  the  soldiers  of 
France,  whilst  her  wounds  are  daily 
treated  and  healed  by  the  skill  of  her  Gen- 
erals. A  white  city  of  desolation,  scorched 
and  battered,  yet  the  brightest  jewel  in 
the  crown  of  France's  glory;  a  shining 
example  to  the  world  of  the  triumph  of 
human  resistance  and  the  courage  of  men. 
A  city  of  strange  and  cruel  sounds.  The 
short,  sharp  bark  of  the  75 's,  the  boom  of 
the  death-dealing  enemy  guns,  the  shrieks 
of  the  shells  and  the  fall  of  masonry  part- 
ing from  houses  to  which  it  had  been  at- 
tached for  centuries,  whilst  from  the  shat- 
tered window  frames  the  familiar  sprite  of 
the  household  looked  ever  for  the  children 
who  came  no  longer  across  the  thresholds 
of  the  homes.  Verdun  is  no  longer  a 
refuge  for  all  that  is  good  and  beautiful 
and  tender,  and  so  the  sounds  of  the 
voices  of  children  and  of  birds  are  heard 
no  more.  Both  have  flown;  the  children 
were  evacuated  with  the  civilians  in  thq 

[96] 


WE   LEFT  THE  CAR  AND  CLIMBED  THROUGH 
THE    RUINED    STREETS 


THE      MOVIES      UNDER  FIRE 

bitter  months  of  February  and  March, 
and  the  birds,  realising  that  there  is  no 
secure  place  in  which  to  nest,  have  de- 
serted not  only  Verdun  but  the  whole  of 
the  surrounding  district. 

We  proceeded  to  a  terrace  overlooking 
the  lower  part  of  the  town  and  witnessed 
a  duel  between  the  French  and  German 
artillery.  The  Germans  were  bombard- 
ing the  barracks  of  Chevert,  and  from  all 
around  the  French  guns  were  replying. 
It  was  certainly  a  joy  to  note  that  for 
one  boom  of  a  German  cannon  there  were 
certainly  ten  answers  from  the  French 
guns.  The  French  soldiers  off  duty 
should  have  been  resting  in  the  caves  and 
dug-outs  which  have  been  prepared  for 
them,  but  most  of  them  were  out  on  the 
terraces  in  different  parts  of  the  city, 
smoking  and  casually  watching  the  effect 
of  the  German  or  of  their  own  fire.  I  en- 
quired of  one  Poilu  whether  he  would  be 
glad  to  leave  Verdun,  and  he  laughingly 
replied:  "One  might  be  worse  off  than 
here.  This  is  the  time  of  year  that  in 
[97] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

peace  times  I  should  have  been  staying 
in  the  country  with  my  mother-in-law." 

There  is  no  talk  of  peace  in  Verdun.  I 
asked  one  of  the  men  when  he  thought  the 
war  would  end.  "Perfectly  simple  to  re- 
ply to  that,  Mademoiselle;  the  war  will 
end  the  day  that  hostilities  cease." 

I  believe  that  the  Germans  would  not 
be  sorry  to  abandon  the  siege  of  Verdun. 
In  one  of  the  French  newspapers  I  saw 
the  following  verse: 

Bodies,  a  1'univers  votre  zele  importun 

Fait  des  "communiques"  dont  personne  n'est 

dupe. 

Vous  dites :  "Nos  soldats  occuperont  Verdun. 
Jusqu'ici  c'est  plutot  Verdun  qui  les  occupe." 

(You  say  that  you  soon  will  hold  Verdun, 
Whilst  really  Verdun  holds  you.) 

We  left  the  car  and  climbed  through  the 
ruined  streets  to  the  top  of  the  citadel. 
No  attempt  has  been  made  to  remove  any 
of  the  furniture  or  effects  from  the  de- 
molished houses.  In  those  houses  from 
which  only  the  front  had  been  blown  away 

[98] 


THE      MOVIES      UNDER   FIRE 

the  spoons  and  forks  were  in  some  in- 
stances still  on  the  table,  set  ready  for  the 
meal  that  had  been  interrupted. 

From  windows  lace  curtains  and  drap- 
eries hung  out  over  the  fronts  of  the 
houses.  Everywhere  shattered  doors, 
broken  cupboards,  drawers  thrown  open 
where  the  inhabitants  had  thought  to  try 
to  save  some  of  their  cherished  belongings, 
but  had  finally  fled  leaving  all  to  the  care 
of  the  soldiers,  who  protect  the  property 
of  the  inhabitants  as  carefully  as  if  it  were 
their  own. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  finer  cus- 
todians. I  was  told  that  at  Bobigny,  pres 
Bourget,  there  is  on  one  of  the  houses  the 
following  inscription  worthy  of  classical 
times : 

"The  proprietor  of  this  house  has  gone 
to  the  War.  He  leaves  this  dwelling  to 
the  care  of  the  French.  Long  live 
France."  And  he  left  the  key  in  the  lock. 

The  soldiers  billeted  in  the  house  read 
the  inscription,  which  met  with  their  ap- 
proval, and  so  far  each  regiment  in  pass- 
[99] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

ing  had  cleaned  out  the  little  dwelling  and 
left  it  in  perfect  order. 

From  the  citadel  we  went  down  into  the 
trenches  which  led  to  the  lines  at  Thiau- 
mont.  The  heat  in  the  city  was  excessive 
but  in  the  trenches  it  was  delightfully 
cool,  perhaps  a  little  too  cool.  We  heard 
the  men  make  no  complaints  except  that 
at  times  the  life  was  a  little  "monoto- 
nous"! One  man  told  me  that  he  was 
once  in  a  trench  that  was  occupied  at  the 
same  time  by  the  French  and  the  Ger- 
mans. There  was  nothing  between  them 
but  sand  bags  and  a  thick  wall  of  clay, 
and  day  and  night  the  French  watched 
that  wall.  One  day  a  slight  scratching 
was  heard.  The  men  prepared  to  face 
the  crumbling  of  the  barrier  when  through 
a  small  hole  popped  out  the  head  of  a 
brown  rabbit.  Down  into  the  trench 
hopped  Mrs.  Bunny,  followed  by  two 
small  bunnies,  and  although  rabbit  for 
lunch  would  have  improved  the  menu  the 
men  had  not  the  heart  to  kill  her.  On  the 
contrary  they  fed  her  on  their  rations  and 

[100] 


THE      MOVIES      UNDEE  FIRE 

at  night-fall  she  departed,  followed  by  her 
progeny. 

From  all  the  dug-outs  heads  popped 
out  and  the  first  movement  of  surprise  at 
seeing  a  woman  in  the  trenches  turned  to 
a  smile  of  delight,  since  the  Poilu  is  at  all 
times  a  chivalrous  gentleman.  One  man 
was  telling  me  of  the  magnificent  work 
that  had  been  accomplished  by  his  "com- 
pagnie."  I  congratulated  him  and  told 
him  he  must  be  happy  to  be  in  such  a  com- 
pany. He  swept  off  his  iron  casque, 
bowed  almost  to  the  ground,  and  an- 
swered: "Certainly  I  am  happy  in  my 
company,  Mademoiselle,  but  I  am  far 
happier  in  yours."  The  principal  grief  of 
the  Poilus  appeared  to  be  that  a  shell  two 
or  three  days  before  had  destroyed  the 
store  of  the  great  "dragee"  (sugared  al- 
mond) manufactory  of  Verdun.  Before 
leaving  the  manufacturer  had  bequeathed 
his  stock  to  the  Army  and  they  were  all 
regretting  that  they  had  not  been  greedier 
and  eaten  up  the  "dragees"  quicker. 

In  the  trenches  near  Verdun,  as  in  the 
[101] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

trenches  in  Flanders,  you  find  the  men 
talking  little  of  war,  but  much  of  their 
homes  and  their  families.  I  came  once 
upon  a  group  of  Bretons.  They  had 
opened  some  tins  of  sardines  and  sitting 
around  a  bucket  of  blazing  coals  they  were 
toasting  the  fish  on  the  ends  of  small 
twigs.  I  asked  them  why  they  were  wast- 
ing their  energies  since  the  fish  were  ready 
to  be  eaten  straight  from  the  tins.  "We 
know,"  they  replied,  "but  it  smells  like 
home."  I  suppose  with  the  odour  of  the 
cooking  fish,  in  the  blue  haze  of  the  smoke, 
they  saw  visions  of  their  cottages  and  the 
white-coiffed  Bretonnes  frying  the  fresh 
sardines  that  they  had  caught. 

The  dusk  was  now  falling  and,  enter- 
ing the  car,  we  proceeded  towards  the 
lower  part  of  the  town  at  a  snail's  pace 
in  order  not  to  draw  the  German  fire. 
We  were  told  that  at  the  present  time 
approximately  one  hundred  shells  a  day 
still  fall  on  Verdun,  but  at  the  time  of 
the  great  attack  the  number  was  as  high 
as  eight  hundred,  whilst  as  many  as  two 

[102] 


THE   HEAT   IN   THE   CITY    WAS    EXCESSIVE    BUT   IN   THE 
TRENCHES  IT  WAS  DELIGHTFULLY  COOL 


THE      MOVIES      UNDER  FIRE 

hundred  thousand  shells  fell  daily  in  and 
around  Verdun. 

Just  before  we  reached  the  entrance  to 
the  citadel  the  enemy  began  to  shell  the 
city  and  one  of  the  shells  exploded  within 
two  hundred  feet  of  the  car.  We  knew 
that  we  were  near  the  entrance  to  the 
vaults  of  the  citadel  and  could  take  ref- 
uge, so  we  left  the  car  and  proceeded  on 
foot.  Without  thinking  we  walked  in  the 
centre  of  the  road,  and  the  sentinel  at  the 
door  of  the  citadel  began  in  somewhat  em- 
phatic French  to  recommend  us  to  "longer 
les  murs"  (to  hug  the  walls  tightly) .  The 
Germans  are  well  aware  of  the  entrance 
to  the  citadel  and  daily  shell  the  spot.  If 
one  meets  a  shell  in  the  centre  of  the  road 
it  is  obviously  no  use  to  argue,  whilst  in 
hugging  the  side  of  the  wall  there  is  a 
possibility  of  only  receiving  the  fragments 
of  the  bursting  shell. 


[103] 


A  SUBTERRANEAN  CITY 


XIII 

A   SUBTERRANEAN   CITY 

The  subterranean  galleries  of  the  cita- 
del of  Verdun  were  constructed  by 
Vauban,  and  are  now  a  hive  of  activity — 
barbers'  shops,  sweet  shops,  boot  shops, 
hospitals,  anything  and  everything  which 
goes  to  make  up  a  small  city. 

One  of  the  young  officers  placed  his 
"cell"  at  our  disposal.  The  long  galleries 
are  all  equipped  with  central  heating  and 
electric  light  and  some  of  them  have  been 
divided  off  by  wooden  partitions  or  cur- 
tains like  the  dormitories  in  a  large  school. 
In  the  "cell"  allocated  to  us  we  could  see 
the  loving  touch  of  a  woman's  hand. 
Around  the  pillow  on  the  small  camp  bed 
was  a  beautiful  edging  of  Irish  lace,  and 
on  the  dressing-table  a  large  bottle  of 
Eau-de-Cologne.  There  is  no  reason  to 
[107] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

be  too  uncomfortable  in  Verdun  when  one 
has  a  good  little  wife  to  think  of  one  and 
to  send  presents  from  time  to  time. 

Emerging  from  the  galleries  we  met 
General  Dubois,  a  great  soldier  and  a 
kindly  man,  one  who  shares  the  daily  per- 
ils of  his  men.  The  General  invited  us  to 
remain  and  dine  with  him.  He  had  that 
day  received  from  General  Nivelle  his 
"cravate"  as  Commander  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour,  and  his  officers  were  giving  him 
a  dinner-party  to  celebrate  the  event. 
"See  how  kind  fate  is  to  me,"  he  added; 
"only  one  thing  was  missing  from  the 
feast — the  presence  of  the  ladies — and 
here  you  are." 

It  would  need  the  brush  of  Rembrandt 
to  paint  the  dining-hall  in  the  citadel  of 
Verdun.  At  one  long  table  in  the  dimly 
lighted  vault  sat  between  eighty  and 
ninety  officers,  who  all  rose,  saluted,  and 
cheered  as  we  entered.  The  General  sat 
at  the  head  of  the  table  surrounded  by  his 
staff,  and  behind  him  the  faces  of  the 
cooks  were  lit  up  by  the  fires  of  the  stoves. 

[108] 


A   SUBTERRANEAN    CITY 

Some  short  distance  behind  us  was  an  air- 
shaft.  It  appears  that  about  a  week  or  a 
fortnight  before  our  arrival  a  German 
shell,  striking  the  top  part  of  the  citadel, 
dislodged  some  dust  and  gravel  which  fell 
down  the  air-shaft  onto  the  General's 
head.  He  simply  called  the  attendants  to 
him  and  asked  for  his  table  to  be  moved 
forward  a  yard,  as  he  did  not  feel  inclined 
to  sit  at  table  with  his  helmet  on. 

An  excellent  dinner — soup,  roast  mut- 
ton, fresh  beans,  salade  Russe,  Frangi- 
pane,  dessert — and  even  champagne  to 
celebrate  the  General's  cravate — quite  re- 
assured us  that  people  may  die  in  Verdun 
of  shells  but  not  of  hunger.  We  drank 
toasts  to  France,  the  Allies,  and,  silently, 
to  the  men  of  France  who  had  died  that 
we  might  live.  I  was  asked  to  propose 
the  health  of  the  General  and  did  it  in 
English,  knowing  that  he  spoke  English 
well.  I  told  him  that  the  defenders  of 
Verdun  would  live  in  our  hearts  and  mem- 
ories ;  that  on  behalf  of  the  whole  British 
race  I  felt  I  might  convey  to  him  con- 
[109] 


THE  WHITE   ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

gratulations  on  the  honour  paid  to  him  by 
France.  I  assured  him  that  we  had  hut 
one  idea  and  one  hope,  the  speedy  victory 
of  the  Allied  arms,  and  that  personally 
my  present  desire  was  that  every  one  of 
those  present  at  table  might  live  to  see  the 
flag  of  France  waving  over  the  whole  of 
Alsace-Lorraine.  They  asked  me  to  re- 
peat a  description  of  the  flag  of  France 
which  I  gave  first  in  Ottawa,  so  there,  in 
the  citadel  of  Verdun  with  a  small  French 
flag  before  me,  I  went  back  in  spirit  to 
Ottawa  and  remembered  how  I  had 
spoken  of  the  triumph  of  the  flag  of 
France:  "The  red,  white  and  blue — the 
red  of  the  flag  of  France  a  little  deeper 
hue  than  in  time  of  peace  since  it  was  dyed 
with  the  blood  of  her  sons,  the  blood  in 
which  a  new  history  of  France  is  being 
written,  volume  on  volume,  page  on  page, 
of  deeds  of  heroism,  some  pages  com- 
pleted and  signed,  others  where  the  pen 
has  dropped  from  the  faltering  hands  and 
which  posterity  must  needs  finish.  The 
white  of  the  flag  of  France,  not  quite  so 

[110] 


A   SUBTERRANEAN   CITY 

white  as  in  time  of  peace  since  thousands 
of  her  sons  had  taken  it  in  their  hands  and 
pressed  it  to  their  lips  before  they  went 
forward  to  die  for  it,  yet  without  stain, 
since  in  all  the  record  of  the  war  there  is 
no  blot  on  the  escutcheon  of  France.  And 
the  blue  of  the  flag  of  France,  true  blue, 
torn  and  tattered  with  the  marks  of  the 
bullets  and  the  shrapnel,  yet  unfurling 
proudly  in  the  breeze  whilst  the  very  holes 
were  patched  by  the  blue  of  the  sky,  since 
surely  Heaven  stands  behind  the  flag  of 
France." 

The  men  of  Verdun  were  full  of  ad- 
miration for  the  glorious  Commander  of 
the  Fort  de  Vaux.  They  told  me  that  the 
fort  was  held,  or  rather  the  ruins  of  the 
fort,  until  the  Germans  were  actually  on 
the  top  and  firing  on  the  French  beneath. 

I  discussed  with  my  neighbour  the  fact 
that  the  Germans  had  more  hatred  for  us 
than  for  the  French.  He  said  the  whole 
world  would  ridicule  the  Germans  for  the 
manner  in  which  they  had  exploited  the 
phrase  "Gott  strafe  England,"  writing  it 
[111] 


even  on  the  walls  anywhere  and  every- 
where. He  added  laughingly  that  it 
should  not  worry  the  English  comrades. 
"When  they  read  'Gott  strafe  England' 
all  they  needed  to  reply  was  'Ypres, 
Ypres,  Hurrah!'" 


[1.18] 


POILU  AND  TOMMY 


XIV 

POILU  AND  TOMMY 

He  informed  me  that  he  had  heen  sta- 
tioned for  some  time  with  his  regiment 
near  the  English  troops,  and  there  had 
been  loud  lamentations  among  the  Poilus 
because  they  had  been  obliged  to  say  good- 
bye to  their  English  comrades.  He  added 
that  the  affection  was  not  entirely  disin- 
terested. The  English  comrades  had  ex- 
cellent marmalade  and  jam  and  other 
good  things  which  they  shared  with  their 
French  brothers,  who,  whilst  excellently 
fed,  do  not  indulge  in  these  luxuries.  He 
told  me  a  delightful  tale  of  a  French  cook 
who,  seeing  an  English  soldier  standing 
by,  began  to  question  him  as  to  his  par- 
ticular branch  of  the  service,  informing 
him  that  he  himself  had  had  an  exceed- 
[115] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

ingly  busy  morning  peeling  potatoes  and 
cleaning  up  the  pots  and  pans.  After 
considerable  conversation  he  inquired  of 
the  English  comrade  what  he  did  for  his 
living.  "Oh,"  replied  the  Englishman,  "I 
get  my  living  fairly  easily;  nothing  half  so 
strenuous  as  peeling  potatoes.  I  am  just 
a  colonel."!! 

The  clean-shaven  Tommy  is  the  beloved 
of  all  France.  I  remember  seeing  one 
gallant  khaki  knight  carrying  the  market 
basket  of  a  French  maiden  and  repaying 
himself  out  of  her  store  of  apples.  I  re- 
gret to  say  his  pockets  bulged  suspi- 
ciously. Whilst  at  a  level  crossing  near 
by,  the  old  lady  in  charge  of  the  gate  had 
an  escort  of  "Tommies"  who  urged  her  to 
let  the  train  "rip."  This  was  somewhat 
ironical  in  view  of  the  fact  that  the  top 
speed  in  that  part  of  the  war  zone  was 
probably  never  more  than  ten  miles  an 
hour. 

Tommy  is  never  alone0  The  children 
have  learned  that  he  loves  their  company 
and  he  is  always  surrounded  by  an  escort 

[116] 


POILU  AND  TOMMY 

of  youthful  admirers.  The  children  like 
to  rummage  in  his  pockets  for  souvenirs: 
he  must  spend  quite  a  good  deal  of  his  pay 
purchasing  sweets  so  that  they  may  not 
be  disappointed  and  that  there  may  be 
something  for  his  little  friends  to  find.  I 
remember  seeing  one  Tommy,  sitting  in 
the  dusty  road  with  a  large  pot  of  mar- 
malade between  his  legs,  dealing  out 
spoonfuls  with  perfect  justice  and  impar- 
tiality to  a  circle  of  youngsters.  He 
speaks  to  them  of  his  own  little  "nippers" 
at  home  and  they  in  turn  tell  him  of  their 
father  who  is  fighting,  of  their  mother  who 
now  works  in  the  fields,  and  of  baby  who 
is  fearfully  ignorant,  does  not  know  the 
difference  between  the  French  and  the 
"Engleesch"  and  who  insisted  on  calling 
the  great  English  General  who  had  stayed 
at  their  farm  "Papa."  It  matters  little 
that  they  cannot  understand  each  other, 
and  it  does  not  in  the  least  prevent  them 
from  holding  lengthy  conversations. 

I   told   my   companion   at  table   that 
whilst  visiting   one   of  the  hospitals   in 
[117] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

France  I  had  heard  how  one  Englishman 
had  been  sent  into  a  far  hospital  in  Pro- 
vence by  mistake.  He  was  not  seriously 
injured  and  promptly  constituted  himself 
king  of  the  ward.  On  arrival  he  insisted 
on  being  shaved.  As  no  shaving  brush 
was  available  the  "piou-piou"  in  the  next 
bed  lathered  him  with  his  tooth  brush. 
The  French  cooking  did  not  appeal  to 
him,  and  he  grumbled  continuously. 
The  directress  of  the  hospital  sent  her  own 
cook  from  her  chateau  to  cater  for  Mr. 
Atkins.  An  elaborate  menu  was  pre- 
pared. Tommy  glanced  through  it,  or- 
dered everything  to  be  removed,  and  com- 
manded tea  and  toast.  Toast-making  is 
not  a  French  art  and  the  chateau  chef 
was  obliged  to  remain  at  the  hospital  and 
spend  his  time  carefully  preparing  the 
toast  and  seeing  that  it  was  served  in  good 
condition.  When  Mr.  Atkins  felt  so  dis- 
posed he  would  summon  a  piou-piou  to 
give  him  a  French  lesson  or  else  request 
the  various  inmates  of  the  ward  to  sing 
to  him.  He  would  in  turn  render  that 

[118] 


POILU  AND  TOMMY 

plaintive  ditty,  "Down  by  the  Old  Bull 
and  Bush."  A  nurse  who  spoke  a  little 
English  translated  his  song  to  the  French 
soldiers.  Whilst  not  desiring  to  criticise 
the  rendezvous  selected  by  their  "came- 
rade  anglais,"  they  did  not  consider  that 
"pres  d'un  vieux  taureau"  (near  an  old 
bull)  was  a  safe  or  desirable  meeting- 
place.  When  I  explained  to  the  nurse 
that  "The  Bull  and  Bush"  was  a  kind  of 
cabaret  she  hastened  from  ward  to  ward 
to  tell  the  men  that  after  all  the  English- 
man might  have  selected  a  worse  spot  to 
entertain  his  girl.  He  was  at  once  the 
joy  and  the  despair  of  the  whole  hospital 
and  the  nurse  had  much  trouble  in  con- 
soling the  patients  when  "our  English" 
was  removed. 


[119] 


ABBREVIATED  FRENCH 


XV 

ABBREVIATED   FEENCH 

When  Tommy  indulges  in  the  use  of 
the  French  language  he  abbreviates  it  as 
much  as  possible. 

One  hot  summer's  day  driving  from 
Boulogne  to  Fort  Mahon,  half  way  down 
a  steep  hill  we  came  upon  two  Tommies 
endeavouring  to  extract  a  motor  cycle  and 
a  side-car  from  a  somewhat  difficult  posi- 
tion. They  had  side-slipped  and  run  into 
a  small  tree.  The  cycle  was  on  one  side 
and  the  side-car  on  the  other,  and  a  steel 
rod  between  had  been  rammed  right  into 
the  wood  through  the  force  of  the  collision. 

My  three  companions  and  myself  en- 
deavoured to  help  the  men  to  pull  out  the 
rod,  but  the  united  efforts  of  the  six  of 
us  proved  unavailing.  We  hailed  a  pass- 
ing cart  and  tied  the  reins  around  the 
[123] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

motor-cycle,  but  immediately  the  horse 
commenced  to  pull  the  leather  of  the  reins 
snapped.  Behind  the  cart  walked  a  peas- 
ant. Only  one  adjective  can  possibly  de- 
scribe him:  he  was  decidedly  "beer-y." 
He  made  no  attempt  to  help  but  passed 
from  one  Tommy  to  the  other,  patting 
them  on  their  backs,  assuring  them  "that 
with  a  little  good- will  all  would  be  well." 
There  was  a  dangerous  glint  in  the 
youngest  Tommy's  eye,  but  in  the  pres- 
ence of  ladies  he  refrained  from  putting 
his  thoughts  into  words.  Finally,  his  pa- 
tience evaporating,  he  suddenly  turned  on 
the  peasant  and  shouted  at  him,  "Ong! 
Ong!"  It  took  me  some  time  to  grasp 
that  this  was  Tommy's  abbreviated  ver- 
sion of  "Allez  vous  en"  (Clear  out).  In 
any  event  it  proved  quite  useless,  as  he 
continued  to  pat  the  Tommies  affection- 
ately and  to  bombard  them  with  imprac- 
ticable suggestions. 

We  were  joined  later  by  three  villagers, 
two  gendarmes  and  a  postman,  and,  all 
pulling  together,  we  managed  to  extract 

[124] 


ABBREVIATED   FRENCH 

the  rod  from  the  tree.  A  large  lorry  was 
passing  and  on  to  it  we  heaved  the  wreck- 
age. Up  clambered  the  Tommies,  fol- 
lowed by  their  unwelcome  friend,  who 
managed  to  sit  on  the  only  unbroken  por- 
tion of  the  side-car.  This  was  too  much 
for  Messrs.  Atkins'  equanimity.  Limp 
with  laughter,  we  watched  them  pass  from 
sight  amidst  a  chorus  of  "Ong!  Ong!"  fol- 
lowed by  flights  of  oratory  in  the  English 
tongue  which  do  not  bear  repeating,  but 
which  were  received  by  the  peasant  as  ex- 
pressions of  deep  esteem  and  to  which  he 
replied  by  endeavouring  to  kiss  the  Tom- 
mies and  shouting,  "Vive  1'Angleterre! 
All  right!  Hoorah!" 

Our  guiding  officer  began  to  show  some 
signs  of  anxiety  to  have  us  leave  before 
ten  o'clock,  but  the  good-byes  took  some 
time.  Presents  were  showered  upon  us, 
German  dragees  (shell  heads  and  pieces 
of  shrapnel),  and  the  real  French  dra~ 
gees,  the  famous  sweet  of  Verdun. 

We  crept  out  of  the  city,  but  unfortu- 
nately at  one  of  the  dangerous  crossroads 
[125] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

our  chauffeur  mistook  the  route.  A  heavy 
bombardment  was  taking  place  and  the 
French  were  replying.  We  were  lucky 
enough  to  get  on  to  the  route  and  into 
safety  before  any  shell  fell  near  us.  It 
appears  that  the  Germans  systematically 
bombard  the  roads  at  night,  hoping  to 
destroy  the  camions  bringing  up  the  food 
for  the  city,  fresh  munitions  and  men. 

We  slept  that  night  at  Bar-le-Duc,  and 
next  morning  saw  the  various  ambulances 
and  hospitals  which  the  Service  de  Sante 
had  particularly  requested  me  to  visit.  I 
was  impressed  by  the  splendid  organisa- 
tion of  the  Red  Cross  even  quite  close  to 
the  firing  line. 


[126] 


THE  BROWN  AND  BLACK  SONS 
OF  FRANCE 


XVI 

THE  BROWN  AND  BLACK  SONS  OF  FRANCE 

Passing  through  one  tent  hospital  an 
Algerian  called  out  to  me :  "Ohe,  la  blonde, 
viens  id!  J'ai  quelque  chose  de  beau  a 
te  montrer"  (Come  here,  fair  girl,  I 
have  something  pretty  to  show  you. )  He 
was  sitting  up  in  bed,  and,  as  I  ap- 
proached, unbuttoned  his  bed- jacket  and 
insisted  on  my  examining  the  tag  of  his 
vest  on  which  was  written,  "Leader,  Lon- 
don." The  vest  had  come  in  a  parcel  of 
goods  from  the  London  Committee  of  the 
French  Red  Cross,  and  I  only  wished  that 
the  angel  of  goodness  and  tenderness,  who 
is  the  Presidente  of  the  Croix  Rouge, 
Mme.  de  la  Panouse,  and  that  Mr.  D.  H. 
Illingworth,  Mr.  Philip  Wilkins,  and  all 
her  able  lieutenants,  could  have  seen  the 
pleasure  on  the  face  of  this  swarthy  de- 
[129] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  YERDUN 

fender  of  France.  In  the  next  bed  was 
a  Senegalais  who  endeavoured  to  attract 
my  attention  by  keeping  up  a  running 
compliment  to  my  compatriots,  my  King, 
and  myself.  He  must  have  chanted  fifty 
times:  "Vive  les  English,  Georges,  et 
toil"  He  continued  even  after  I  had  re- 
warded him  with  some  cigarettes.  The 
Senegalais  and  the  Algerians  are  really 
great  children,  especially  when  they  are 
wounded.  I  have  seen  convalescent  Sene- 
galais and  Algerians  in  Paris  spend  hours 
in  the  Champs  Elysees  watching  the  en- 
tertainment at  the  open-air  marionette 
theatre.  The  antics  of  the  dolls  kept  them 
amused.  They  are  admitted  to  the  enclo- 
sure free,  and  there  is  no  longer  any  room 
for  the  children  who  frequented  the  show 
in  happier  days.  These  latter  form  a  dis- 
consolate circle  on  the  outside,  whilst  the 
younger  ones,  who  do  not  suffer  from 
colour  prejudice,  scramble  onto  the  knees 
of  the  black  soldiers. 

The  sister  in  charge  was  a  true  daugh- 
ter of  the  "Lady  of  the  Lamp."     Pro- 

[130] 


THE  BROWN  AND  BLACK  SONS  OF  FRANCE 


THE  BROWN  AND   BLACK   SONS  OF  FRANCE 

vided  they  are  really  ill,  she  sympathises 
with  all  the  grumblers,  but  scolds  them  if 
they  have  reached  the  convalescent  stage. 
She  carries  a  small  book  in  which  she  en- 
ters imaginary  good  points  to  those  who 
have  the  tables  by  their  beds  tidy,  and 
she  pinned  an  invisible  medal  on  the  chest 
of  a  convalescent  who  was  helping  to  carry 
trays  of  food  to  his  comrades.  She  is 
indeed  a  General,  saving  men  for  France. 

Not  a  man  escaped  her  attention,  and 
as  we  passed  through  the  tents  she  gave 
to  each  of  her  "chers  enfants,"  black  or 
white,  a  cheering  smile  or  a  kindly  word. 
She  did,  however,  whilst  talking  to  us, 
omit  to  salute  a  Senegalais.  Before  she 
passed  out  of  the  tent  he  commenced  to 
call  after  her,  "Toi  pas  gentille  aujourd'- 
huif  moi  battre  toi"  (You  are  not  good 
to  me  to-day;  me  beat  you.)  This,  it  ap- 
pears, is  his  little  joke — he  will  never  beat 
any  one  again,  since  he  lost  both  his  arms 
when  his  trench  was  blown  up  by  a  land 
mine. 

It  was  at  Triancourt  that  I  first  saw 
[131] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

in  operation  the  motor-cars  that  had  been 
sent  out  fitted  with  bath  tubs  for  the 
troops,  and  also  a  very  fine  car  fitted  up 
by  the  London  Committee  of  the  French 
Red  Cross  as  a  moving  dental  hospital. 

I  regret  to  add  that  a  "Poilu"  near  by 
disrespectfully  referred  to  it  as  "another 
of  the  horrors  of  war,"  adding  that  in 
times  of  peace  there  was  some  kind  of 
personal  liberty,  whereas  now  "a  man 
could  not  have  toothache  without  being 
forced  to  have  it  ended,  and  that  there 
was  no  possibility  of  escaping  a  dentist 
who  hunted  you  down  by  motor." 

It  was  suggested  that  as  I  had  had  a 
touch  of  toothache  the  night  before,  I 
might  take  my  place  in  the  chair  and  give 
an  example  of  British  pluck  to  the  assem- 
bled "Poilus."  I  hastened  to  impress  on 
the  surgeon  that  I  hated  notoriety  and 
would  prefer  to  remain  modestly  in  the 
background.  I  even  pushed  aside  with 
scorn  the  proffered  bribe  of  six  "bosche," 
buttons,  assuring  the  man  that  "I  would 
keep  my  toothache  as  a  souvenir." 

[132] 


THE  BROWN  AND   BLACK   SONS  OF  FRANCE 

At  one  of  the  hospitals  beside  the  bed 
of  a  dying  man  sat  a  little  old  man  writ- 
ing letters.  They  told  me  that  before  the 
war  he  had  owned  the  most  flourishing 
wine  shop  in  the  village.  He  had  fled  be- 
fore the  approach  of  the  German  troops, 
but  later  returned  to  his  village  and  in- 
stalled himself  in  the  hospital  as  scribe. 
He  wrote  from  morning  until  night,  and, 
watching  him  stretching  his  lean  old 
hands,  I  asked  him  if  he  suffered  much 
pain  from  writers'  cramp.  He  looked  at 
me  almost  reproachfully  before  answer- 
ing, "Madamoiselle,  it  is  the  least  I  can 
do  for  my  country;  besides  my  pain  is  so 
slight  and  that  of  the  comrades  so  great. 
I  am  proud,  indeed  proud,  that  at  sixty- 
seven  years  of  age  I  am  not  useless." 

I  was  shown  a  copy  of  the  last  letter 
dictated  by  a  young  French  officer,  and 
I  asked  to  be  allowed  to  copy  it — it  was 
indeed  a  letter  of  a  "chic"  type. 

Chers  Parrain  et  Marraine, 

Je  vous  ecris  a  vous  pour  ne  pas  tuer  Maman 
qu'un  pareil  coup  surprendrait  trop. 
[133] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

J'ai  etc  blesse  le  .  .  .  devant.  .  .  .  J'ai  deux 
blessures  hideuses  et  je  n'en  aurai  pas  pour  bien 
longtemps.  Les  majors  ne  me  le  cachent  meme 
pas. 

Je  pars  sans  regret  avec  la  conscience  d'avoir 
fait  mon  devoir. 

Prevenez  done  mes  parents  le  mieux  que  vous 
pourrez ;  qu'ils  ne  cherchent  pas  a  venir,  ils  n'en 
auraient  pas  le  temps. 

Adieu  vous  tous  que  j'aimais. 

VIVE  LA  FRANCE! 

(Dear  Godfather  and  Godmother, 

I  am  writing  to  you  so  as  not  to  kill  Mother, 
whom  such  a  shock  would  surprise  too  much.  I 
was  wounded  on  the  ...  at  ...  I  have  two 
terrible  wounds  and  I  cannot  last  long.  The 
surgeons  do  not  even  attempt  to  conceal  this 
from  me.  I  go  without  regret,  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  done  my  duty.  Kindly 
break  the  news  to  my  parents  the  best  way  you 
can;  they  should  not  attempt  to  come  because 
they  would  not  have  time  to  reach  me  before  the 
end. 

Farewell  to  all  you  whom  I  have  loved. 

LONG  LIVE  FRANCE !) 

Whilst  loving  his  relatives  tenderly,  the 
last  thought  of  the  dying  Frenchman  is 
for  his  country.  Each  one  dies  as  a  hero, 

[134] 


THE  BROWN   AND   BLACK   SONS  OF  FRANCE 

yet  not  one  realises  it.  It  would  be  im- 
possible to  show  greater  simplicity;  they 
salute  the  flag  for  the  last  time  and  that 
is  all. 


[135] 


AT  GENERAL  NIVELLE'S 
HEADQUARTERS 


XVII 

AT  GENERAL  NIYETJ.F/S   HEADQUARTERS 

From  Triancourt  we  went  straight  to 
the  Headquarters  of  General  Nivelle. 
They  had  just  brought  him  the  maps  rec- 
tified to  mark  the  French  advance.  The 
advance  had  been  made  whilst  we  were 
standing  on  the  terrace  at  Verdun  the 
night  before.  We  had  seen  the  rockets 
sent  up,  requesting  a  "tir  de  barrage" 
(curtain  of  fire).  The  75's  had  replied 
at  once  and  the  French  had  been  able  to 
carry  out  the  operation. 

Good  news  had  also  come  in  from  the 
Somme,  and  General  Nivelle  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  express  his  admiration  for  the 
British  soldiers. 

He  said  that  there  was  no  need  to  praise 
the  first  troops  sent  by  Britain  to  France, 
every  one  knew  their  value,  but  it  should 
[139] 


THE   WHITE   ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

be  a  great  satisfaction  to  Britain  to  find 
that  the  new  army  was  living  up  to  the 
traditions  of  the  old  army. 

He  added:  "We  can  describe  the  new 
Army  of  Britain  in  two  words:  ffa  mord' 
— it  bites." 

The  Father  of  his  own  men,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  General  Nivelle  finds  a 
warm  corner  in  his  heart  for  the  British 
Tommy,  since  his  Mother  was  an  Eng- 
lishwoman. 

At  lunch  General  Nivelle  and  the  mem- 
bers of  his  staff  asked  many  questions  as 
to  the  work  of  the  Scottish  Women's  Hos- 
pitals. I  told  them  that  what  appealed 
to  us  most  in  our  French  patients  was  the 
perfect  discipline  and  the  gratitude  of  the 
men.  We  are  all  women  in  the  Hospi- 
tals, and  the  men  might  take  advantage  of 
this  fact  to  show  want  of  discipline,  but 
we  never  had  to  complain  of  lack  of  obedi- 
ence. These  soldiers  of  France  may  some 
of  them  before  the  war  have  been  just 
rough  peasants,  eating,  drinking,  and 
sleeping;  even  having  thoughts  not  akin 

[140] 


SCOTTISH    WOMEN   SURGEONS    AT   WORK   AT 
THE    ABBAYE   DE    ROYAUMONT,    FRANCE 


AT  GENERAL  NIVELLE  S   HEADQUARTERS 

to  knighthood,  but  now,  through  the  or- 
deal of  blood  and  fire,  each  one  of  them 
has  won  his  spurs  and  come  out  a  chival- 
rous knight,  and  they  bring  their  chivalry 
right  into  the  hospitals  with  them.  We 
had  also  learned  to  love  them  for  their 
kindness  to  one  another.  When  new 
wounded  are  brought  in  and  the  lights  are 
low  in  the  hospital  wards,  cautiously 
watching  if  the  Nurse  is  looking  (luckily 
Nurses  have  a  way  of  not  seeing  every- 
thing) ,  one  of  the  convalescents  will  creep 
from  his  bed  to  the  side  of  the  new  arrival 
and  ask  the  inevitable  question:  "D'oii 
viens-tu?"  (Where  do  you  come  from?) 
"I  come  from  Toulouse,"  replies  the  man. 
"Ah,"  says  the  enquirer,  "my  wife's 
Grandmother  had  a  cousin  who  lived  near 
Toulouse."  Thai  is  quite  a  sufficient  basis 
for  a  friendship.  The  convalescent  sits  by 
the  bedside  of  his  new  comrade,  holding 
the  man's  hand,  whilst  his  wounds  are 
being  dressed,  telling  him  he  knows  of  the 
pain,  that  he,  too,  has  suffered,  and  that 
soon  all  will  be  well. 
[141] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

Lions  to  fight,  ever  ready  to  answer  to 
the  call  of  the  defence  of  their  country, 
yet  these  men  of  France  are  tender  and 
gentle.  In  one  hospital  through  which  I 
passed  there  was  a  baby.  It  was  a  mili- 
tary hospital,  and  no  civilian  had  any  right 
there,  but  the  medical  officers  who  in- 
spected the  hospital  were  remarkably 
blind — none  of  them  could  ever  see  the 
baby.  One  of  the  soldiers  passing  through 
a  bombarded  village  saw  a  little  body  lying 
in  the  mud,  and  although  he  believed  the 
child  to  be  dead  he  stooped  down  and 
picked  it  up.  At  the  evacuating  station 
the  baby  and  the  soldier  were  sent  to  the 
hospital  together;  the  doctors  operated 
upon  the  baby  and  took  a  piece  of  shrap- 
nel from  its  back,  and,  once  well  and 
strong,  it  constituted  itself  lord  and  mas- 
ter and  king  of  all  it  surveyed.  When  it 
woke  in  the  morning  it  would  call  "Papa" 
and  twenty  fathers  answered  to  its  call. 
All  the  pent-up  love  of  the  men  for  their 
own  little  ones  from  whom  they  had  been 
parted  for  so  long  they  lavished  on  the 

[142] 


THE   HOSPITAL  "KING 


AT   GENERAL   NIVELLE  S   HEADQUARTERS 

tiny  stranger,  but  all  his  affection  and  his 
whole  heart  belonged  to  the  rough  miner 
soldier  who  had  brought  him  in.  As  the 
shadows  fell  one  saw  the  man  walking 
up  and  down  the  ward  with  the  child  in 
his  arms,  crooning  the  "Marseillaise"  until 
the  tired  little  eyes  closed.  He  had  ob- 
tained permission  from  the  authorities  to 
adopt  the  child  as  the  parents  could  not 
be  found,  and  remarked  humorously: 
"Mademoiselle,  it  is  so  convenient  to  have 
a  family  without  the  trouble  of  being  mar- 
ried!" 

What  we  must  remember  is  that  the 
rough  soldier,  himself  blinded  with  blood 
and  mud,  uncertain  whether  he  could  ever 
reach  a  point  of  safety,  yet  had  time  to 
stoop  and  pick  that  little  flower  of  France 
and  save  it  from  being  crushed  beneath 
the  cannon  wheels.  I  told  General  Nivelle 
that  the  hospital  staff  intended  to  keep 
the  child  for  the  soldier  until  the  end  of 
the  war,  and  we  all  hoped  that  he  might 
grow  up  to  the  glory  of  France  and  to  the 
[143] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO    VERDUN 

eternal  honour  of  the  tender-hearted  fight- 
er who  had  rescued  him. 

After  lunch  we  stood  for  some  time 
watching  the  unending  stream  of  camions 
proceeding  into  Verdun.  I  believe  it  has 
been  stated  that  on  the  average  one  passed 
through  the  village  every  fifteen  seconds, 
and  that  there  are  something  like  twelve 
thousand  motor  vehicles  used  in  the  de- 
fence of  Verdun.  The  splendid  condition 
of  the  roads  and  the  absence  of  all  con- 
fusion in  the  handling  of  this  immense 
volume  of  traffic  are  a  great  tribute  to  the 
organising  genius  of  the  chiefs  of  the 
French  Army. 

We  left  General  Nivelle  as  GeneAal 
Petain  predicted  we  should  find  him — 
smiling. 


[144] 


RHEIMS 


XVIII 

EHEIMS 

We  slept  that  night  at  Epernay,  in  the 
heart  of  the  Champagne  district.  The 
soil  of  France  is  doing  its  best  to  keep  the 
vines  in  perfect  condition  and  to  provide 
a  good  vintage  to  be  drunk  later  to  cele- 
brate the  victory  of  France  and  her  Allies. 
The  keeping  of  the  roads  in  good  condi- 
tion is  necessary  for  the  rapid  carrying 
out  of  operations  on  the  Front,  and  a 
"marmite"  hole  is  promptly  filled  if  by 
a  lucky  shot  the  German  batteries  happen 
to  tear  up  the  roadway.  We  were  pro- 
ceeding casually  along  one  road  when  a 
young  officer  rode  up  to  us  and  told  us  to 
put  on  speed  because  we  were  under  fire 
from  a  German  battery  which  daily  landed 
one  or  two  shells  in  that  particular  portion 
of  the  roadway.  It  is  wonderful  how 
[147] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

obedient  one  becomes  at  times!!!  We 
promptly  proceeded  to  hasten!!!  After 
visiting  General  Debeney  and  obtaining 
from  him  the  necessary  authorisation  and 
an  officer  escort,  we  entered  Rheims. 

The  cathedral  is  now  the  home  of 
pigeons,  and  as  they  fly  in  and  out  of  the 
blackened  window-frames  small  pieces  of 
the  stained  glass  tinkle  down  on  to  the 
floor.  The  custodian  of  the  cathedral  told 
us  that  during  the  night  of  terror  the  Ger- 
man wounded,  lying  in  the  cathedral,  not 
realising  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the 
French  character  under  adversity,  feared, 
seeing  the  cathedral  in  flames,  that  the 
populace  might  wreak  vengeance  on  them, 
and  that  it  was  exceedingly  difficult  to 
get  them  to  leave  the  cathedral.  Many 
of  the  prisoners  fled  into  corners  and  hid, 
and  some  of  them  even  penetrated  into  the 
palace  of  the  Archbishop,  which  was  in 
flames.  All  the  world  knows  and  admires 
the  bravery  of  the  cure  of  the  cathedral, 
M.  Landrieux,  who  took  upon  himself  the 
defence  of  the  prisoners,  for  fear  insults 

[148] 


RHEIMS 

might  be  hurled  at  them.  He  knowingly 
risked  his  life,  but  when,  next  day,  some 
of  his  confreres  endeavoured  to  praise  him 
he  replied:  "My  friends,  I  never  before 
realised  how  easy  it  was  to  die." 

One  of  the  churches  in  the  city  was 
heavily  draped  in  black,  and  I  asked  the 
sacristan  if  they  had  prepared  for  the 
funeral  of  a  prominent  citizen.  He  told 
me  that  they  were  that  day  bringing  home 
the  body  of  a  young  man  of  high  birth  of 
the  neighbourhood,  but  that  it  was  not  for 
him  that  the  church  was  decked  in  mourn- 
ing. The  draperies  had  hung  there  since 
August,  1914 — "Since  every  son  of 
Rheims  who  is  brought  home  is  as  noble 
as  the  one  who  comes  to-day,  and  alas! 
nearly  every  day  brings  us  one  of  our 
children." 

We  lunched  in  the  hotel  before  the 
cathedral,  where  each  shell  hole  has  an 
ordinary  white  label  stuck  beside  it  with 
the  date.  The  landlord  remarked:  "If 
you  sit  here  long  enough,  and  have  the 
good  luck  to  be  in  some  safe  part  of  the 
[149] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD  TO  VERDUN 

building,  you  may  be  able  to  go  and  stick 
a  label  on  a  hole  yourself." 

After  lunch  we  went  out  to  the  Chateau 
Polignac.  To  a  stranger  it  would  appear 
to  be  almost  entirely  destroyed,  but  when 
M.  de  Polignac  visited  it  recently  he  sim- 
ply remarked  that  it  was  "less  spoilt  than 
he  had  imagined."  This  was  just  one 
other  example  of  the  thousands  one  meets 
daily  of  the  spirit  of  noble  and  peasant, 
fede  ne  pas  s'en  fcdre"  but  to  keep  only 
before  them  the  one  idea,  Victory  for 
France,  no  matter  what  may  be  the  cost. 

We  went  later  to  call  on  the  "75,"  chez 
elle.  Madame  was  in  a  particularly  com- 
fortable home  which  had  been  prepared 
for  her  and  where  she  was  safe  from  the 
inquisitive  eyes  of  the  Taubes.  The  men 
of  the  battery  were  sitting  round  their 
guns,  singing  a  somewhat  lengthy  ditty, 
each  verse  ending  with  a  declamation  and 
a  description  of  the  beauty  of  "la  belle 
Suzanne."  I  asked  them  to  whom  Su- 
zanne belonged  and  where  the  fair  damsel 
resided.  "Oh,"  they  replied,  "we  have  no 

[150] 


ONE    OF   THE    WARDS    AT   THE    SCOTTISH    WOMEN  *S     HOSPITAI., 
ROYAUMONT 


EHEIMS 

time  to  think  of  damsels  called  'Suzanne* 
now.  This  is  our  Suzanne,"  and  the 
speaker  affectionately  gave  an  extra  rub 
with  his  coat  sleeve  to  the  barrel  of  the 
"75."  By  a  wonderful  system  of  trench 
work  it  is  possible  for  the  gunners,  in  case 
of  necessity,  to  take  refuge  in  the  cham- 
pagne vaults  in  the  surrounding  district, 
and  it  is  in  the  champagne  vaults  that  the 
children  go  daily  to  school,  with  their  little 
gas  masks  hanging  in  bags  on  their  arms. 
It  appears  that  at  first  the  tiny  ones  were 
frightened  of  the  masks,  but  they  soon 
asked,  like  their  elders,  to  be  also  given 
a  sack,  and  now  one  and  all  have  learnt 
at  the  least  alarm  to  put  on  their  masks. 
There  is  no  need  to  tell  the  children  .to 
hurry  home.  They  realise  that  it  is  not 
wise  to  loiter  in  the  streets  for  fear  of  the 
whistling  shells.  They  are  remarkably 
plucky,  these  small  men  and  women  of 
France. 

During  one  furious  bombardment  the 
children  were  safe  in  the  vaults,  but  one 
small  citizen  began  to  cry  bitterly.     He 
[151] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

was  reproached  by  his  comrades  for  cow- 
ardice, but  he  replied  indignantly:  "I 
fear  nothing  for  myself.  I  am  safe  here, 
but  there  is  no  cellar  to  our  house,  and 
oh,  what  will  happen  to  the  little  mother?" 
The  teacher  reassured  him  by  telling  him 
that  his  mother  would  certainly  take 
refuge  in  somebody's  else  cellar. 

On  leaving  Rheims  we  passed  through 
various  small  hamlets  where  the  houses 
had  been  entirely  destroyed,  and  which 
now  had  the  appearance  of  native  villages, 
as  the  soldiers  had  managed  to  place 
thatched  roofs  on  any  place  which  had  any 
semblance  of  walls  standing. 

At  Villars  Coterets  the  Guard  Cham- 
petre  sounded  the  "Gare  a  Vousl"  Four 
Taubes  were  passing  overhead,  so  we  took 
refuge  in  the  hotel  for  tea.  The  enemy 
did  no  damage  in  that  particular  village, 
but  in  the  next  village  of  Crepy-en-Valois 
a  bomb  killed  one  child  and  injured  five 
women. 


[152] 


AT    THE   HEADQUARTERS    OF 
THE  GENERALISSIMO 


XIX 

AT  THE    HEADQUARTERS   OF   THE 
GENERALISSIMO 

At  his  Headquarters  next  morning  I 
had  the  honour  of  being  received  by  Gen- 
eralissimo Joffre  and  telling  him  of  the 
admiration  and  respect  which  we  felt  for 
him  and  for  the  magnificent  fighting  spirit 
of  the  troops  under  his  able  command.  He 
replied  modestly  by  speaking  of  the  Brit- 
ish army.  He  referred  to  the  offensive  on 
the  Somme,  and  said,  "You  may  well  be 
proud  of  your  young  soldiers;  they  are 
excellent  soldiers,  much  superior  to  the 
Germans  in  every  way,  a  most  admirable 
infantry;  they  attack  the  Germans  hand 
to  hand  with  grenades  or  with  the  bayonet 
and  push  them  back  everywhere ;  the  Ger- 
mans have  been  absolutely  stupefied  to 
find  such  troops  before  them."  The  Gen- 
[155] 


THE   WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

eral  then  paid  a  tribute  to  the  Canadian 
and  Australian  troops  and  told  me  that 
that  day  the  Australians  had  taken  new 
territory,  adding,  "And  not  only  have  they 
taken  it,  but,  like  their  British  and  Cana- 
dian brothers,  what  they  take  they  will 
hold." 

I  explained  to  General  Joffre  that, 
whilst  I  was  not  collecting  autographs,  I 
had  with  me  the  menu  of  the  dinner  in 
the  Citadel  at  Verdun  and  that  it  would 
give  me  great  pleasure  to  have  his  name 
added  to  the  signatures  already  on  that 
menu.  All  the  signatures  were  on  one 
side,  so  I  turned  the  menu  over  in  order 
to  offer  him  a  clear  space,  but  he  turned 
it  back  again,  saying,  "Please  let  me  sign 
on  this  side.  I  find  myself  in  good  com- 
pany with  the  defenders  of  Verdun." 

At  departing  he  said  to  me,  "We  may 
all  be  happy  now  since  certainly  we  are 
on  the  right  side  of  the  hill."  ("Nous 
sommes  sur  la  bonne  pente") 

In  case  this  little  story  should  fall  into 
the  hands  of  any  woman  who  has  spent 

[156] 


HEADQUARTERS  OF  THE  GENERALISSIMO 

her  time  working  for  the  men  at  the  Front, 
I  would  like  to  tell  her  the  great  pleasure 
it  is  to  them  to  receive  parcels,  no  matter 
what  they  contain.  Fraternity  and  Equal- 
ity reign  supreme  in  the  trenches,  and  the 
man  counts  himself  happy  who  receives  a 
little  more  than  the  others,  since  he  has 
the  joy  and  the  pleasure  of  sharing  his 
store  of  good  things  with  his  comrades. 
There  is  seldom  a  request  made  to  the 
French  behind  the  lines  that  they  do  not 
attempt  to  fulfil.  I  remember  last  win- 
ter, passing  through  a  town  in  the  prov- 
inces, I  noticed  that  the  elderly  men  ap- 
peared to  be  scantily  clad  in  spite  of  the 
bitterness  of  the  weather.  It  appeared 
that  the  call  had  gone  forth  for  fur  coats 
for  the  troops,  and  all  the  worthy  citizens 
of  the  town  forwarded  to  the  trenches 
their  caracul  coats.  Only  those  who  are 
well  acquainted  with  French  provincial 
life  can  know  what  it  means  to  them  to 
part  with  these  signs  of  opulence  and  com- 
mercial success. 

It  is  perhaps  in  the  Post  Offices  that 
[157] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

you  find  yourself  nearest  to  the  heart  of 
"France  behind  the  lines." 

One  morning  I  endeavoured  to  send  a 
parcel  to  a  French  soldier.  I  took  my 
place  in  a  long  line  of  waiting  women 
bound  on  the  same  errand.  A  white-haired 
woman  before  me  gave  the  Post  Office 
Clerk  infinite  trouble.  They  are  not  re- 
nowned for  their  patience  and  I  marvelled 
at  his  gentleness  until  he  explained.  "Her 
son  died  five  weeks  ago,  but  she  still  con- 
tinues to  send  him  parcels." 

To  another  old  lady  he  pointed  out  that 
she  had  written  two  numbers  on  the  par- 
cel. "You  don't  want  two  numbers, 
Mother.  Which  is  your  boy's  number? 
Tell  me  and  I  will  strike  out  the  other." 
"Leave  them  both,"  she  answered.  "Who 
knows  whether  my  dear  lad  will  be  there 
to  receive  the  parcel.  If  he  is  not,  I  want 
it  to  go  to  some  other  Mother's  son." 

Affection  means  much  to  these  men 
who  are  suffering,  and  they  respond  at 
once  to  any  sympathy  shown  to  them. 
One  man  informed  us  with  pride  that 

[158] 


THE    KITCHEN   COACH    OF   A    FRENCH    RED    CROSS   TRAIN 


HEADQUARTERS  OF  THE  GENERALISSIMO 

when  he  left  his  native  village  he  was 
"decked  like  an  altar  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
on  the  first  of  May."  In  other  words, 
covered  with  flowers. 

There  are  but  few  lonely  soldiers  now, 
since  those  who  have  no  families  to  write 
to  them  receive  letters  and  parcels  from 
the  Godmothers  who  have  adopted  them. 
The  men  anxiously  await  the  news  of 
their  adopted  relatives  and  spend  hours 
writing  replies.  They  love  to  receive  let- 
ters, but,  needless  to  say,  a  parcel  is  even 
more  welcome. 

I  remember  seeing  one  man  writing 
page  after  page.  I  suggested  to  him  that 
he  must  have  a  particularly  charming 
Godmother.  "Mademoiselle,"  he  replied, 
"I  have  no  time  for  a  Godmother  since 
I  myself  am  a  Godfather."  He  then  ex- 
plained that  far  away  in  his  village  there 
was  a  young  assistant  in  his  shop,  "And 
God  knows  the  boy  loves  France,  but  both 
his  lungs  are  touched,  so  they  won't  take 
him,  but  I  write  and  tell  him  that  the 
good  God  has  given  me  strength  for  two, 
[159] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO   VERDUN 

that  I  fight  for  him  and  for  myself,  and 
that  we  are  both  doing  well  for  France." 
I  went  back  in  imagination  to  the  village. 
I  could  see  the  glint  in  the  boy's  eyes, 
realised  how  the  blood  pulsed  quicker 
through  his  veins  at  the  sight  of,  not  the 
personal  pronoun  "I"  in  the  singular, 
but  the  plural  "We  are  doing  well  for 
France."  For  one  glorious  moment  he  was 
part  of  the  hosts  of  France  and  in  spirit 
serving  his  Motherland.  It  is  that  spirit 
of  the  French  nation  that  their  enemies 
will  never  understand. 

On  one  occasion  a  young  German  offi- 
cer, covered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot, 
was  brought  before  one  of  the  French 
Generals.  He  had  been  taken  fighting 
cleanly,  and  the  General  was  anxious  to 
show  him  kindness.  He  asked  him  if  he 
would  not  prefer  to  cleanse  himself  be- 
fore examination.  The  young  German 
drew  himself  up  and  replied:  "Look  at 
me,  General.  I  am  covered  from  head  to 
foot  with  mud,  and  that  mud  is  the  soil 
of  France — you  will  never  possess  as  much 

[160] 


HEADQUARTERS  OF  THE  GENERALISSIMO 

soil  in  Germany."  The  General  turned 
to  him  with  that  gentle  courtesy  which 
marks  the  higher  commands  in  France  and 
answered :  "Monsieur,  we  may  never  pos- 
sess as  much  soil  in  Germany,  but  there  is 
something  that  you  will  never  possess, 
and,  until  you  conquer  it,  you  cannot  van- 
quish France,  and  that  is  the  spirit  of  the 
French  people." 

The  French  find  it  difficult  to  under- 
stand the  arrogance  which  appears  in- 
grained in  the  German  character  and 
which  existed  before  the  War. 

I  read  once  that  in  the  guests'  book  of 
a  French  hotel  a  Teutonic  visitor  wrote: 

"L'Allemagne  est  la  premiere  nation  du 
monde." 

The  next  French  visitor  merely  added: 

"Yes,  'Allemagne  is  the  first  country  of  the 
world*  if  we  take  them  in  alphabetical  order." 


[161] 


TO  THE  GLORY  OF  THE 
WOMEN  OF  FRANCE 


XX 

TO  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  WOMEN  OF  FRANCE 

I  left  the  war  zone  with  an  increased 
respect,  if  this  were  possible,  for  the  men 
of  France.  They  have  altered  their  uni- 
forms, but  the  spirit  is  unchanged.  They 
are  no  longer  in  the  red  and  blue  of  the 
old  days,  but  in  shades  of  green,  grey  and 
blue,  colours  blending  to  form  one  mighty 
ocean — wave  on  wave  of  patriotism — 
beating  against  and  wearing  down  the 
rocks  of  military  preparedness  of  forty 
years,  and  as  no  man  has  yet  been  able 
to  say  to  the  Ocean  stop,  so  no  man  shall 
cry  "Halt"  to  the  Armies  of  France. 

I  have  spoken  much  of  the  men  of 
France,  but  the  women  have  also  earned 
our  respect  —  those  splendid  peasant 
women,  who  even  in  times  of  peace 
worked,  and  now  carry  a  double  burden 
[165] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

on  their  shoulders — the  middle-class 
women,  endeavouring  to  keep  together  the 
little  business  built  up  by  the  man  with 
years  of  toil,  stinting  themselves  to  save 
five  francs  to  send  a  parcel  to  the  man  at 
the  Front  that  he  may  not  suspect  that 
there  is  not  still  every  comfort  in  the  little 
homestead — the  noble  women  of  France, 
who  in  past  years  could  not  be  seen 
before  noon,  since  my  lady  was  at  her 
toilette,  and  who  can  be  seen  now,  their 
hands  scratched  and  bleeding,  kneeling  on 
the  floors  of  the  hospitals  scrubbing,  proud 
and  happy  to  take  their  part  in  national 
service.  The  men  owe  much  of  their  cour- 
age to  the  attitude  of  the  women  who  stand 
behind  them,  turning  their  tears  to  smiles 
to  urge  their  men  to  even  greater  deeds  of 
heroism. 

In  one  of  our  hospitals  was  a  young  lad 
of  seventeen  who  had  managed  to  enlist 
as  an  "engage  volontaire"  by  lying  as  to 
his  age.  His  old  Mother  came  to  visit 
him,  and  she  told  me  he  was  the  last  of 
her  three  sons ;  the  two  elder  ones  had  died 

[166] 


TO  THE  GLORY  OF  THE  WOMEN  OF  FRANCE 

the  first  week  of  the  war  at  Pont-Mous- 
son,  and  her  little  home  had  been  burned 
to  the  ground.  The  boy  had  spent  his 
time  inventing  new  and  terrible  methods 
of  dealing  with  the  enemy,  but  with  his 
Mother  he  became  a  child  again  and  ten- 
derly patted  the  old  face.  Seeing  the  lad 
in  his  Mother's  arms,  and  forgetting  for 
one  moment  the  spirit  of  the  French  na- 
tion, I  asked  her  if  she  would  not  be  glad 
if  her  boy  was  so  wounded  that  she  might 
take  him  home.  She  was  only  an  old  peas- 
ant woman,  but  her  eyes  flashed,  her 
cheeks  flushed  with  anger  and  turning  to 
me  she  said,  "Mademoiselle,  how  dare  you 
say  such  a  thing  to  me?  If  all  the 
Mothers,  Wives  and  Sweethearts  thought 
as  you,  what  would  happen  to  the  coun- 
try? Gustave  has  only  one  thing  to  do, 
get  well  quickly  and  fight  for  Mother 
France." 

Because  these  women  of  France  have 

sent  their  men  forth  to  die,  eyes  dry,  with 

stiff  lips  and  head  erect,  do  not  think  that 

they  do  not  mourn  for  them.    When  night 

[167] 


THE  WHITE  ROAD   TO  VERDUN 

casts  her  kindly  mantle  of  darkness  over 
all,  when  they  are  hidden  from  the  eyes 
of  the  world,  it  is  then  that  the  proud 
heads  droop  and  are  bent  upon  their  arms, 
as  the  women  cry  out  in  the  bitterness  of 
their  souls  for  the  men  who  have  gone 
from  them.  Yet  they  realise  that  behind 
them  stands  the  greatest  Mother  of  all, 
Mother  France,  who  sees  coming  towards 
her,  from  her  frontiers,  line  on  line  of  am- 
bulances with  their  burden  of  suffering 
humanity,  yet  watches  along  other  routes 
her  sons  going  forth  in  thousands,  laugh- 
ter in  their  eyes,  songs  on  their  lips,  ready 
and  willing  to  die  for  her.  France  draws 
around  her  her  tattered  and  bloodstained 
robe,  yet  what  matters  the  outer  raiment? 
Behind  it  shines  forth  her  glorious,  exul- 
tant soul,  and  she  lifts  up  her  head  re- 
joicing and  proclaims  to  the  world  that 
when  she  appealed  man,  woman,  and  child 
— the  whole  of  the  French  nation — an- 
swered to  her  call. 

THE  END 

[168] 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


RE(TD  LD-URt 


REC'D  LD-URL 
AU62  7  1997 


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ADDITIONAL    SIGNATURES   OF   THE   DEFENDERS 


P'JjAV*? 


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DF   VERDUN   AT   THE   DINNER  TO   MISS   BURKE 


